


American dreams in an English village

by Butterfish



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Family, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Growing Up, Homophobia, Love, M/M, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Sexuality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-11-07 08:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 207,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfish/pseuds/Butterfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Alfred moves in next door, Arthur's life changes completely. At first he doesn't like the American, but as time passes by, they become friends and later they fall in love. But things aren't always easy; as Arthur grows and becomes a young man, he has to go through a lot to accept his sexuality, find peace within his family and at school, learn who his real friends are and, most importantly, who he is himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello new and old readers! The following story has been written over a long time and as I am writing this, it has already passed its 2 years birthday. Because of this the writing style will change slightly with every chapter and hopefully you'll also find that my English has improved with time. When I get the time, I promise I'll go through every chapter to correct whatever grammar and spelling mistakes there might be, but for now you'll have to do with the original version.  
> Please note that despite the story taking place in England, I have decided to use the American terms when it comes to the school system. This was done to make it an easier read, but I've later realised that most of you would've preferred if I'd kept to the English terms. I apologize for my choice and promise to correct this too when time comes around.  
> I hope you'll enjoy the story!

The summer that I turned eleven and got my first tea set, an unruly child named Alfred moved in next door. Up until then, the village that I lived in with my parents had been a peaceful community. Sometimes too peaceful for my dad's liking. 'Places like these turn boys into poofters,' he normally said, and afterwards he would eye me with such suspicion that made my stomach twist and turn in anxiety. At that time I wasn't sure what it meant to be a poofter or a bum boy as he would also call it. But I knew it was something bad, and that he thought of me as such when I wrote 'unicorn-stuff' on top of my wish list.

Alfred wasn't a poofter, and my dad liked him from day one. He was messy, always covered in mud or apple-juice, avoided taking a bath if he could, ate worms just to be brave and owned several toy-guns - something that I found not only to be a disturbing but also cruel interest.

I didn't like Alfred from day one, or day two or three or four. I hated him from the second out gazes met. He came from one of the big cities overseas, and he had no idea of how to behave in a smaller, English village. The pantechnicon had hardly settled in their driveway before he jumped out of it, holding the American flag in one hand and a water gun in the other, skipped across the hedge separating our gardens and planted the flag in one of my sneakers. As he straightened up, he pointed the gun at my forehead and grinned,

"This is now American property!" I remember being shocked, falling to my butt while flailing my arms around in the air, trying to make sense of the situation. He just laughed and pointed to gun to his own mouth. "Relax, dude! It's just water!" He pulled the trigger and shot a stream of water into his mouth. Some of the liquid dripped from the corners of his lips and down onto his white shirt. It held some band-name on it. He noticed me staring and dropped the gun to the lawn, grabbed his shirt and fixed the letters for me to see. "That's Beastie Boys, y'know them?" I shook my head.

"Is that like Dolly Parton?" I asked, for that was the only American singer that came to my mind. Alfred laughed like he was going to choke on his lungs and fell to the ground as well, pointing his finger at me.

"You listen to country music?" he cried, and at that point I didn't know whether to be embarrassed or angry. My cheeks had reached the colour of beetroots, and I shoved the flag off of my shoe and got up, brushing grass off of my pants as I sneered,

"This is my garden, you can't be in here." Alfred rolled over and got up himself after having grabbed his gun. He was about to say something more as his mother showed up by the hedge.

"Alfy, dad needs help carrying all your posters."

"Okay!" Alfred ran towards the hedge, stopped and turned around. He glared at me for a few seconds and then grinned like an idiot. "Here!" He threw me his gun. I didn't want to touch it, but I wasn't keen on seeing it leaving a mark on the grass either, so I caught it with questioning eyes. "That's for you, buddy!" He saluted and clumsily climbed back over to his mother who was busy yelling at his father for being a lazy-ass. I just stared at the lime-green water gun between my hands and shuddered.

The Americans were in town.

* * *

I liked going to school, especially when we had lessons on history with Miss Madeleine. She was the kindest woman I had ever met, and the way she told us stories from a time long gone made everyone giggle in excitement and roll around on our desk in anticipation for the end of the story. She had a way with words, whispered Greek tales and roared about world wars while doing small dances in front of the board. I imagined having her as a teacher until I left primary school, and I couldn't dream of anything that could ever ruin my lust for new knowledge on the world.

But then Alfred showed up.

We weren't supposed to be in the same class, but he switched classes just a week after he had started attending school. Not because the teachers didn't want him, but because all the girls did. No sweet Laura or Emma could concentrate on maths when Alfred ran his fingers through his blond locks, looked at them with those baby-blue eyes and drawled an American accent just for them to hear. In my class we only had two girls, and they still though boys were disgusting, so the staff pictured that it was the perfect place for Alfred to be. Unfortunately, the perfect place for Alfred turned out to be the worst place for me.

We had about World War 2 that morning as Alfred swung the door open and stepped in, wearing some old bomber jacket that he apparently found appropriate for school. Miss Madeleine smiled and allowed him to introduce himself to the class.

"I am Alfred F. Jones," he said and stuck his hands deep down into the pockets of his jacket, held a pause and then said with pride in his voice, "and I am an American." Some gasped, some snickered, I smacked my head against the desk.

"Sit up straight, Arthur." The others chuckled as I straightened up in the back and looked towards Alfred. He was staring at me, and as out eyes met, he jumped and cried,

"I know you! You're the dude from next door!" I blushed furiously as all eyes fell on me, and Miss Madeleine cleared her throat.

"Oh, you know each other?"

"No!" I cried.

"Yes!" he yelled, and tumbled down between the desks to sit next to me. Or he would have, if I hadn't already had someone sitting beside me. Kiku was a good friend of mine and had been it since we met in first grade. He was from Japan, but a true English gentleman in my eyes, and another one of the reasons as to why I liked going to school.

I hadn't told him about Alfred. I don't know why, but even though I couldn't stand the thought of having Alfred living next door, he was still my personal bother and no one else's. I had spent the last days of Summer vacation trying to keep an eye on him for the safety of our village. I had noted quite a few things.

Firstly, he liked sleeping late and staying up late. I had more than once been awakened by his profane music playing loudly and the smell of burgers creeping in through my open window. He seemed to love fast-food, occasionally he would come running out in the garden if he saw me leave the house and offer for me to come and have some fries with him. "French fries, it's the best!" he would always say, and I would turn him down because he denied calling them chips.

Secondly, he considered himself to be a true hero. He had a superman-costume that he wore even in the greatest heat, claiming that he was the one who made the Soviet Union break down. I liked superheroes, though I knew nothing of their powers or personalities. I just found a great liking in putting up pictures of men with muscles on my walls and watching them in awe. My father said that only poofters did that, so I had moved all my pictures to the inside of my closet, but as he saw Alfred crossing the road with a red cape swaying behind him in the wind, he yelled for me to go and become friends with him, for that was a true man. 'Someone who doesn't just stare, but also acts, he's worth a million!' he said. I didn't think Alfred was worth the shoes he ran around in, but I liked his costume, so I approached him, only to be told that I could play with him if I pretended to be Stalin and if he could shoot me with his water guns. I didn't want to be Stalin, and I didn't want to be shot, so I went inside again to my dad's disappointment.

I was also disappointed in myself for even asking him if he would play, so now that he was standing there with shining eyes and a smile crossing his face, I didn't want him to sit anywhere near me. So I grabbed Kiku by the arm and pulled him close to me.

"You can't sit here," I growled, "this is Kiku's spot and it always will be!"

"We can fit in three on that bench," he said and tried to make space between Kiku and me. Luckily, Miss Madeleine once again proved herself to be a fine lady as she told Alfred that no, it wasn't appropriate to sit three on a bench, and that he had to move to the back and sit next to Ivan.

Bad choice. Five minutes later as we were discussing the world leaders during the world war, Ivan made a comment on Stalin being a wise man which made Alfred step up onto his desk and yell from the top of his lungs that Stalin had never been wise.

"He fought for equality!" Ivan cried and raised to his feet.

"So did Roosevelt, he just wasn't a… a sissy!"

"Staling was no sissy!" Ivan roared and grabbed Alfred by his legs. Alfred wobbled, but didn't fall.

"You're a sissy!"

"You don't even know what that word means!"

"Uh-huh, it means.. You don't know it either!" Alfred pointed his finger at Ivan who hesitated. Miss Madeleine along with the rest of the class was startled, unsure on how to react to a situation like this. We had never experienced anything like it in class before. Ivan snapped in air.

"It means to be fat!" Ivan then decided, and Alfred nodded.

"I knew that!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Calm down, you two!" Miss Madeleine finally stepped in and freed Ivan's arms from Alfred's legs. Or the other way around. Hard to tell from the spot that I was sitting. Alfred jumped down from the desk and went to the board, turned towards us all and said,

"You want to know about World War 2? I'll tell you about World War 2, for America saved you all!"

"That's outrageous!" I cried and got up.

"Then who helped Europe back onto its feet?" Alfred wanted to know and crossed his arms like the spoiled brat he was. Miss Madeleine was still busy calming Ivan down who was declaring that he had nuclear weapons in his schoolbag, so she didn't notice as I went up to Alfred. Kiku mumbled something about all of us being quiet and speaking in a proper manner, but for once I decided to ignore him.

"If you helped, it was only to benefit from it yourself!"

"We still helped!"

"We… We built up a health care system, by ourselves!"

"That has nothing with anything to do!"

"It does!" I cried. We were now in each other's faces, yelling so spit flew around. "Mom says that we're better than you because we have a health care system!"

"We're better than you because we have guns!"

"We have… fish and chips!"

"We have McD!"

"McD sucks!"

"You suck!" And that did it all. We jumped at each other. I had never before been fighting with anyone, but from the way that Alfred's fists hit my stomach I guessed that he had, so I mostly head banged his chest and tried to cover myself up while he flailed around with arms and legs, sometimes hitting himself in anger. Miss Madeleine yelled for both of us to stop, the girls started crying, Ivan pulled forward pens that he said had nuclear powers, and suddenly, I can't remember how, I was sitting with Alfred outside in the school yard for a time-out. I had gotten a black eye and several scratches, he was bruised mostly on his knees and claimed that he had broken a rib, though he probably just had a mark somewhere underneath his shirt.

"That sucks," he mumbled, breaking out minute-long silence and swinging with his legs in the air. We were seated at one of the tall benches, facing the soccer field that was being mowed. I smelled fresh grass and blood trickling down my chin.

"Yeah, well, at least my dad won't call me a poofter anymore."

"What's a poofter?"

"I don't know." Alfred leaned back against the wall.

"It's probably someone who smoke. Y'know, like, taking a puff?"

"Why should fighting make me a non-smoker?"

"Because you can't fight with a cigarette in your hand," he explained, and I nodded, for it made great sense the way he told things. But I quickly regretted having nodded at all, for I didn't want to seem friendly with Alfred.

"Why did you move here?" I asked and peeked at him from the corners of my eyes. He was looking up at the sky, his tanned skin looked like melting chocolate in the sun.

"My brother lives over here."

"Your brother? Why doesn't he live with you?"

"Half-brother. Daddy messed around with some British girl when he was in the army."

"Oh…" I felt that I shouldn't ask anymore questions, and he probably didn't knew much more than what he had already told me, so I looked down at my sneakers. One of them still had a hole in the side from the time when Alfred poked his flag down through it.

"Why don't you like me?" he suddenly asked, and I shrugged as an immediate reaction.

"I don't know why."

"Can't we try and be friends?" he asked. "You're spending time on me anyway."

"I am not!"

"Am so!" We glared at each other. His nose was running. He wiped it off in his arm. "You've been watching me since I moved in."

"Maybe a little.."

"So? Why not be friends?" I didn't say anything at first. Becoming friends with Alfred would make my dad happy and my mom worry less about me being an idiot. Since I didn't have many friends, she once thought that I had to be mentally unstable. I hated going to the psychologist for three months just to be told that there was nothing wrong with me.

"Hmm…" I mumbled, just to answer something. Alfred straightened up.

"I'll let you play with my guns."

"I don't want your guns."

"Then my horse." I looked at him with shiny eyes.

"You have a horse?" He grinned.

"Well, it's at a ranch some miles from here, but I go there at least twice a month."

"Why? Doesn't you dad say that horses are for girls?"

"What? No!" Alfred wrinkled his brows. "Cowboys rode horses. I want to become a cowboy when I grow up, so I am learning how to ride and take care of a horse. It's super manly." He nodded as if he wanted to make sure that I understood how manly it was. I bit my lower lip.

"Okay, if I can play with your horse, then we can be friends."

"Great!" He beamed and grabbed my hand and shook it harshly. I smiled awkwardly and looked away. At that time I just planned on staying by his side until I got my own horse. How was I to know that there would come a time when I would freely stay by his side, with or without a horse, and feel proud of doing so?


	2. 2

The first thing Alfred did was to introduce me to the playhouse his dad had built to him. It was a sloping shack hidden between the boughs on the old oak in their backyard, and Alfred had me swearing that I would tell no one about its existence. I swore on my new tea set, and only dared to do so because I found it really silly - the shack had been built in the summer when the green leaves still hid everything. But in the winter it would be exposed for everyone to see. There really was no point in me telling people about it. Beside, I doubted anyone would want to know such a secret.

As I climbed the ladder I expected to see rows of water guns and dirt and empty cans of soda everywhere. But my fears were shown to be groundless. The floor had been covered with some leftovers from the carpeting his parents had done inside their house, and though the pieces were just spread here and there, I found myself mumbling 'nice' as I straightened up inside the shack.

"Yeah, I know. Hey, look," Alfred patted at one of the walls, "this one you'll fill."

"Fill?" I asked him, and he nodded eagerly.

"Like the one behind you." I turned around and gasped. The back wall had been filled with posters of historical leaders and famous Americans and superheroes from all over the world. I recognized Elvis Presley, Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King and Michael Jordan. I pointed to the latter.

"You like basketball?"

"Yeah, but I love football."

"Me too!" I cried excited and swirled around to be met by his grinning face. "Who's your favourite player?"

"Jim Taylor!"

"…what?" I wrinkled my brows. I had heard that name before, but I seemed to miss the link between Taylor and football. "He's not a football-player."

"No, he used to be," Alfred explained, "he's even a member of the Pro Football Hall of Fame." He nodded with a serious glimpse in his eyes. My excitement faded away.

"That's American football."

"Of course, what else?"

"I'm talking football players like.. Bobby Moore or Johnny Haynes." Alfred snickered.

"Man, that's soccer, dude."

"No, it's called football."

"It is not!"

"It is!" Alfred shoved me aside and went to the door, opened it and stuck his head out. He looked down at his dad who was busy mowing the lawn. "Dad, what's soccer?" I went to his side and stuck out my head as well, though Alfred tried to shove me back in. His dad stopped up underneath the tree and looked up at us with sweat dripping from his forehead.

"Soccer? Son, don't go there, I thought we raised you better," he laughed. I planted a smack across Alfred face that made him tumble back in, grabbed around the door to steady myself and leaned out through the opening.

"Mr. Jones, isn't' it right that football is played with a round ball and two teams who try to kick the ball into the opponents goal net?" I asked.

"That's a lie!" Alfred yelled from behind and grabbed me around the ankles to pull me back in. His dad must have gotten the idea of what was going on, and he played it cool, flashing an Alfred-smile at me with two rows of white teeth showing as he answered,

"Of course, Arthur! You're right!"

"Dad, you're so mean!" Alfred yelled and pulled me away from the opening. His dad shrugged and continued mowing the lawn. Alfred was gawking. "You're such a… sissy!"

"He's not fat," I mumbled and tumbled down to sit in a corner. Though I couldn't hide my smug smile, I wasn't keen on arguing with Alfred, for I still hadn't seen his horse. So I just leaned back against the wall and eyed the ceiling. "What kind of posters should I bring?" Alfred closed the door and turned around to look at me. For a second I believed he was going to yell at me, but he took his defeat like a man and settled down in front of me.

"I dunno, what've you got?"

"I have a lot of posters of superheroes." He grinned.

"Great! Let's go get 'em!" And so we did. We emptied my closet and brought all the posters back to him. There were tons of Batman, Superman, Iron Man and The Phantom just to mention a few. Alfred especially liked the one I had with Captain America. I told him that he could have it if I could hang up a photo of the English queen. He wasn't very willing, but it was an awesome poster with stars and stripes all over, so in the end we made a deal; both Captain America and Elisabeth could be hanged on the wall, as long as none of them were removed. If one picture were taken down, so would the other. Afterwards we spent half an hour with a ruler, making sure that they were posted at the same level above the ground. We were so wrapped up in our own little world that we both yelped in surprised as Alfred's mom opened the door and smiled,

"Dinner, boys."

* * *

Alfred's mom was nothing like Alfred. She was a small, plump woman with long, brown hair and brown eyes with long eyelashes. She would often be wearing short, colourful dresses and hundreds of rings. When she got angry with his dad, she would take them off and throw them after him, and afterwards we would all crawl around on our knees to pick them up again. But I never saw her angry with Alfred. She always treated him like some kind of god, handing him treats on whatever occasion. She was the kindest woman on Earth, patient and calm.

So no, Alfred was more like his dad. He was tall and muscular, looked like he always came straight from the army with his head shaved and back covered in sweat from some kind of activity. He loved sports and used it as a punishment. I remember one time when Alfred had refused to eat his lunch, and his dad made him do push-ups until he would. All children from around the neighbourhood gathered to watch, for Alfred had inherited his dad's stubbornness. None of them would give up, and so Alfred did push-ups for twenty minutes while we watched. His face had gone completely blue and his legs were shaking when he finally broke down. We all laughed at him as he sat on the lawn and ate that salad he had been given for lunch, but from that day of we respected him dearly knowing that none of us would have been able to do push-ups for more than a few minutes before giving up. Alfred was stubborn, but strong.

Therefore I felt no guilt leaving the hard work to him. I sat on a chair and watched as his mom dumped dishes, silverware, napkins, glasses and bowls of food onto him before he staggered from the kitchen to the living room and started to set the table. Upstairs his dad was taking a bath, singing loudly for all of us to hear. Every time he forgot a stanza and started mumbling something incoherent, Alfred would roll his eyes and send me a funny smile as if he was saying: "I could do that better!"

It wasn't the first time I was in Alfred's home, but it was the first time I was there by own will. Just a week after they moved in, my parents - mostly my dad - got the idea that we should invite them over for a cup of tea. Alfred's parents really wanted to socialise, but they couldn't stand the taste of tea. We did, however, not own a coffee-machine at the time being, so in the end they invited us over to them for a nice evening. They could make both the coffee and tea, and we could sit in their large living room and eat biscuits. Mom said that they just placed us there to brag, but Alfred's parents aren't really that uptight. I don't think they ever gave their living room a second thought, they just threw in whatever they'd brought with them from the states. But mom was easily impressed - she sat the whole evening praising some vase they'd gotten at Wal-Mart. I was so embarrassed that I even agreed to go with Alfred outside to watch the stars as I refused going to his room. Rumours were that it was filled with dirt and profane music. Ivan told me that Alfred collected dead animals and hanged them on his walls. Later it turned out that he just had some album with dead beetles in it - a project he did in first grade and never got around throwing out. I made him. But that's a story for later.

Forget all about my mom. The home really wasn't impressive. They had some stuff with the American flag on it, and a lot of books on the different presidents through time, but that was all that separated us from one another. Oh, well, one more thing; their family photos.

While Alfred was laying the table, I came to notice a row of pictures standing on their bookshelf. I went over to take a closer look at them. The first that caught my eye were that seemed to be a class-photo from Alfred's old school. Alfred came over to me while I was looking at it, put his arm around my shoulders and said,

"How do you like it?" I blinked and leaned a little in to see it better.

"There's a lot of coloured children," I said in surprise.

"You don't have many of them here?"

"Not really…" Of course there was Kiku, and then the Chinese boy from down the street who didn't go to our school. But the only coloured guy we had had moved from our school because he was bullied. We called him Cuba, for no one really knew his name. He was always cheerful and good at maths, and we used to be really good friends because we both liked ice cream. His dad ran the local movie theatre, and his mom sold sweets for the movies, so we often went to his place after school, watched a movie and then did homework.

Unfortunately, all the sweets made him big. Then he started getting bullied, and while people were bullying him with his weight, they threw in other stuff like his colour of his skin. I think that was what finally made him break down, and his parents decided to move from the village to the city. I told my parents, and my mom tried comforting me and telling me that we could still be friends and send each other letters. But dad wouldn't allow it. He said that Cuba smoked and spoke with a weird accent, and that I should learn the Queen's English and not that kind of trash. I think he was just jealous because no one ever invited him to the movie theatre.

Now we don't have a theatre, and we don't have any coloured children, and I told Alfred the story. He didn't like it at all, slapped his forehead and groaned.

"How ignorant is that! I mean, come on!" I looked down at my shoes and started rocking from heel to toe and back again.

"I think he sent me a letter once, but dad threw it away. I found the empty envelope in the trash bin."

"That's outrageous!" Alfred looked back at his mom in the kitchen. She was standing with her back to us, but we could tell she was listening. She turned around and smiled kindly at Alfred.

"Why don't you show Arthur the pictures from your basketball team?" she asked, and before I knew of it, Alfred had pulled me up the stairs to his room.

It wasn't really dirty, but it smelled heavily of soda and fries. I was instructed to sit down on his bed carrying Superman bed-clothing, and he went to get a box from underneath it.

"Now, look at this," he said and took forward a bunch of photos. He settled down next to me and started to show them to me one by one.

There were lots of black children, and white children, and colours that I didn't know how to describe, but they were all in the same shirts, running around playing basket in a backyard. I smiled a little.

"Wow, you're all so different… Where's this from?"

"My school." I gawked.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, man, and it's not just like that in the big cities." I looked at him for any sign of humour, but there was none. He was telling the truth. I swung my legs in the air as I flicked through the photos.

"In our school we're pretty much the same."

"Yeah, I noticed. Isn't it weird?"

"I don't really know about that… It's always been like that. I mean, just having you is kind of weird." I looked at him again, shyly, and he grabbed my arm and tried to compare our skin colour. He was darker than me, partly tanned by the sun, partly just born like that. I was like the inside of a banana skin, he was more like a cappuccino. I felt kind of jealous. In the summer, my mom would bring me to the beach, but even in the sharp sun by the sea I would only get red like a crab. Never brown.

"Weird good or weird bad?" he asked. I exhaled sharply.

"I don't know you well enough to answer that."

"What do you think anyway?" I shrugged and looked down.

"Dinner, boys!" his mom called. Alfred got up, but I grabbed him by the arm and held him back.

"I.. I think it's good," I then decided, and he smiled. I wrinkled my brows as my voice turned very serious. "Promise me that you'll never get fat." He blinked. I growled in annoyance. Sometimes he could just be so clueless! "If you get fat, then they might start bullying you as well, and then your parents will be mad, and then you'll move again."

"You don't want me to move away?" He was looking for a compliment. I pushed him away and ran down the stairs to his mother and the food. He chased me, grinning like an idiot and yelled: "I won't leave you, brow-boy!"

* * *

I had big brows, and it wasn't something I was proud of. Quite the opposite. They made me stand out, but mom wouldn't let me shave them off. She told me that they made me look manly. I told her that she was mad. I was grounded for saying so to her, but she really was mad - having such big brows made the others make fun of me. I didn't really like Ivan, but he and I would often stick together at break because the big boys would yell at him for being fat.

"I am just big-bones," Ivan always said and acted like he didn't care, but he really did. And so did I when they said 'bushy-brows' or 'browie' to me.

Of course, Alfred was quick to discover our problems. Since we agreed on being friends, he often went with Ivan and me around the school. Not that Ivan and he could stand each other, but they quickly learned that they couldn't live without each other as well. They became the best enemies ever seen, and they were so competitive that they always kept each other busy studying though they both hated it - one just didn't wanted to be outsmarted by the other.

It was a common Wednesday, and we were all three discussing who had the best lunch as a group of boys approached us. They were from eight grade, was wearing caps and shirts with some smart slang printed across the chest. I turned silent. Ivan started gnawing on a piece of bacon.

"Oh, is fatty eating again?" one of them asked and stopped in front of him.

"When isn't he eating?" another said and grinned. Alfred looked from them to us and back again. One of the boys reached out and shoved his lunch down from the table to the floor. "Oops!"

"Hey, what did you do that for?" Alfred rose to his feet. One of the boys quirked a brow.

"Isn't that the new American kid?" Alfred crossed his arms.

"Maybe?" I tried pulling him down again, but he kept standing.

"Alfred," I hissed. He looked at me annoyed.

"They can't just do that!"

"Please, sit down!" He didn't One of the boys whistled.

"Oh, are you ignoring bushy-brows?"

"What did you call him?"

"Bushy-brows." Alfred inhaled deeply. The boys started laughing.

"Are you getting ready to fight?"

"Fighting for your girlfriend, are you?" they asked and threw me a mocking glance. That's when Alfred hammered a leg up between the first guy's legs, sending him to his knees in a cry.

"Fuckhead!" The two other guys threw themselves at Alfred, but he was still little in comparison to them and neatly slipped in underneath the table. They hammered against it, knocking it over on their way to get him. Some of the girls in the room started crying, someone yelled for a fight. All I saw was Alfred's blond head zigzag like lightning through the room, the two boys chasing him while swearing.

"We're going to break your legs!" The first guy had recollected himself, though he was still massaging his balls through the pants. As a teacher entered the room from behind, he swirled around and cried at her,

"That new kid hit me!" The lady blinked and looked at the table that had been knocked over, looked at the food on the floor, looked at the guy grabbing his balls and then at Alfred who ran straight into her arms, a piece of bacon sticking to his shirt and a smile on his face.

"Hello, ma'am, and sorry for disturbing, but ya know how it is when three bullies get off on teasing kids."

Having been a teacher for years, she had learned to control herself, but Alfred made her bark out in laughter, and she patted his head while roaring: "This young man has got guts!"

"But… he almost ripped off my balls!" the guy cried, "don't praise him!"

"He did not!" Ivan yelled back at him. He had finally built up the courage to speak, and after a few seconds he added, "beside, it wasn't like you had any balls to begin with!" I giggled. Alfred rolled his eyes while his grin widened. The teacher looked flabbergasted.

"I think we might have to take this in the office. Who else was involved?" I rose.

"Me."

"You?" She looked at me with disbelief in her eyes. Alfred clapped his hands together, overjoyed to see me step in as well. I felt my heart was about to beat out of my chest from the way the older boys were looking at me. I reddened.

"Y-yeah, well, they called me names and stuff… They've done for a while…"

"Me too!" Ivan came up behind me and pointed at himself with eagerness, "they call me fatty!"

"They call me bushy-brows!"

"They ruin my lunch!"

"They ruined my shirt once!"

"And my nuclear pens!" Alfred was just watching us proudly as if he was a saint keeping the situation under control. The teacher gathered us all.

"Good, okay, then all of you. In the office, now."

* * *

On our way home from school, Alfred was ecstatic. "Did you see the way I kicked his balls in? Did you?" I stuck my hands deeper into the pockets of my trousers while grinning.

"Darn, Alfred, I was there. I saw it, alright?"

"Yeah, but really!" He started kicking in the air, making faces. "Oh, he deserved a kick in the stomach as well!"

"Give that to him later."

"Yeah, when he's done being suspended I will!" He grinned at me. He was trudging around in his bomber jacket again. It was way too big for him, reached his knees and looked hot. I kicked to a stone and eyed him.

"Why are you wearing that thing anyway? The jacket, I mean." He waved with a long sleeve and smiled.

"It's my grandpa's! Before he died, he said that I could have it. It's super cool, don't you think?" All the girls in school thought it was super cool. This month Alfred had already gotten five love-letters bathed in perfume. He had turned them all down without blinking. He was very secure - normally boys who received such letters would be disgusted or really arrogant. But he just told the girls, kindly, that he wasn't interested but would save their letter, because he found it was really sweet. Truth to be told he burned them in the backyard when his parents had a barbecue.

I felt he was being praised more than enough on daily basis, so I stuck my nose up into the air and muttered: "It's too big. It looks stupid." Alfred laughed.

"Maybe, but it's cosy."

"Whatever."

"Try it!" He zipped it open and pulled it off, threw it to me. I blinked and shook my head furiously.

"I-I don't want to!"

"Try it!"

"It smells of you!"

"That's the good part!" I slowly put it on. It was rather cosy, but it looked even bigger on my because I had no muscles to carry it with. I felt it dragged me to the ground, it was so heavy. Alfred snickered. "Wow, you look dumb."

"Thanks, butthead." I took it off and gave it back to him. He put it on, but left it unzipped.

"I want to become big enough to wear it properly."

"That's a stupid wish."

"It's not!" He kicked a stone as well. I ran for it and kicked it further. We started an unspoken contest in kicking stones.

"You should wish stuff for other people. Not yourself. That's what my mom says," I told him. He seemed to give it a thought.

"Okay," he said and hit a street light with a rock as he kicked it harshly, "then I wish to become big enough to fill out this jacket, so that I can proudly hand it over to my lover." I snorted.

"And who'll that be?"

"I dunno, some chick with big boobs."

"Eew. Why big boobs?"

"They always have big boobs on television," he explained. He was right. They did.

"…the Queen doesn't," was the only response I could come up with. He laughed.

"I am not going to date her!"

"Why don't you date Ivan's sister then? She's got huge boobs." Katyusha was Ivan's older sister, and mostly known around town for her huge chest. She was fifteen and an excellent actor, wanted to grow up to become a famous one. She was also a kind woman, always treating all of us nicely whenever we visited Ivan. Alfred scratched the back of his neck and hesitated.

"I am not sure. What if she's just faking them?"

"How can you fake boobs?"

"You fill your bra with stuff. My mom used to do that." I laughed.

"Then you'll just have to look at her naked." I was joking, but Alfred grabbed me by the shoulders with eyes shining in glee.

"Brilliant idea, Arthur! We spy on her when the girls are showering after PE!" I widened my eyes by a hundred.

"You're mad!"

"It's the best!"

"You're mad!"

"Let's do it!" And so we spent the evening in Alfred's shack, planning on how to get a glimpse of a naked girl.


	3. 3

The school's sports centre was a smaller building by the end of the hill. Alfred and I were to follow an almost hidden trail through the grass that Alfred quickly named 'the secret trail' - it was a path going away from the main road and around the fields. Midways it made a sudden turn and it ended at the back of the centre. It was the perfect way to come there unseen which was important with the strict teachers we had. When the girls were doing sports, there was no way any boys were allowed near them. Alfred said that they were pathetic for being so overprotective. I agreed with him, but considering what we were doing, I couldn't help but silently think that they'd done the right thing.

Thursday afternoon, as class had ended, we waited outside in the school yard to make sure that no one would be watching us. I don't think anyone would've questioned our motives for walking around the fields, but we went around this naked-girl thing like it was a case for secret agents. We couldn't bee seen, heard, everyone was watching us and following us. That was how we felt. Especially Alfred.

"Look normal," he whispered as he dumped down to sit next to me on one of the benches by the bike shed. He had sweaty palms and eyes shining in excitement. As he looked at me, I almost felt bad for not being more joyful about this event. So I faked a smile and swung my legs in the air.

"I am."

"Can you remember the plan?"

"You've asked me about that four times," I sighed and smacked my forehead annoyed, "come on, I am not dumb."

"I am just making sure."

"Making sure of what?" We both looked up. In front of us Ivan was standing. He had his arms folded and a brow raised. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," Alfred quickly answered and looked away. When Alfred doesn't look one in the eyes, it's because he's lying. I had learned that, but Ivan still hadn't figured out how to read the language of the body. So he just stood there.

"If you're doing something, I want to come along."

"You can't."

"Ha!" Ivan pointed to Alfred who realised his mistake at once and hid his face behind an arm, "so you _are_ up to something!"

"It's just.. games," I tried helping Alfred and got up from the bench. Ivan turned to look at me and arrogantly said,

"If you're playing a game, I want to come as well. I am better than you at any game."

I'll admit it, Ivan scared me. He was this chubby fellow with eyes that made my heart beat faster in worry. Friend or not, I was used to following his commands. Meeting Alfred had been somewhat weird because he didn't expect me to do what he said - and of course I didn't always follow through with his crazy ideas -, but Ivan did. And he knew I wasn't used to stand my ground, so as soon as he looked at me, I shrugged and mumbled,

"Okay, you can come."

"Arthur!" Alfred pushed my shoulder with a disappointed look in his eyes. "This was supposed to be for the two of us!"

"But he really, really wants to come, Alfred," I tried desperately. I couldn't back down now. Ivan was smiling brightly, and I felt somewhat sorry for him. He liked staying around Alfred, we both knew that for a fact.

"So, what are we doing?" He looked at us. Alfred was still staring at me, but being the guy he was, he couldn't stay mad at me for long. Instead he grabbed me by the wrist to make sure that Ivan knew that he wasn't letting him come along willingly, and that he wanted this to be experienced with me. Ivan didn't really care, he just followed us cross the road and go down the path.

"We're on a mission," Alfred said over his shoulder. Ivan sloped his head to the side and stomped on a thistle.

"A mission?" Alfred stopped and let go of me. At that point we were a few metres down the path, hidden behind trees and grass and bushes. He went over to stand close to Ivan.

"We're to see.." He held a pause, "naked girls." Ivan's eyes doubled in size, but then he shrugged and looked down like it was nothing.

"I've seen naked girls before."

"You have? Where?" Alfred asked with clear doubt in his voice. He folded his arms above his chest, self-importantly. Ivan snorted.

"I have a sister, man. She brings girlfriends over all the time and they undress and run around in only their underwear." Alfred's self-important image was staring to fade away.

"U-ehrr, yeah, but.. I have seen a naked girl before as well!" he then decided and quickly looked at me to make sure I wouldn't tell the truth; that he had never seen any breast but his mother's.

"You haven't," Ivan spat.

"I have!"

"Haven't!"

"If you've seen girls before, you don't have to come along," I said. Ivan glared at me.

"I'll come," he then decided, "but only because I don't have better to do." I noticed how his cheeks had went from pale to red, and how he was swaying back and forth. I guessed he probably had seen girls before, but only in their underwear and never fully naked. He wanted to know, and if we were to know, lying about knowing wasn't going to be fully satisfying for him. So he came along.

We continued down the path and around the fields. It was a long trip, but even I didn't found it boring as a feeling of nervousness and anxiety started spreading throughout my body. As we finally reached the back of the centre, I was the first to run over to the backdoor to make sure it wasn't locked.

"It's cool," I whispered and waved at them, "it's open!"

"Do you know where the girls' room is?" Ivan asked us while Alfred pushed the door open. He shrugged.

"I guess it's upstairs. I've never been upstairs, so they're probably hiding it there." We wriggled free of our schoolbags and left them in the grass outside.

"What do you think it's like?" I asked as we entered the little hallways with stairs going up and down, and another door leading into the centre. "The room, I mean." Alfred rolled his eyes and sighed,

"Pink and frilly!"

It wasn't pink and frilly. It was just like the boys' changing room, just more clean. We had reached the top of the stairs and found the right door, but as we were standing in the empty room, neither of us knew what to do. Truth to be told, most of the time Alfred and I were planning, we ate cookies, played with his Superman-cards and silently imagined if girls had hair _down there_. We didn't really discuss how to see the naked girls or where to hide.

The room was simple; there was a squared space with benches on which the girls had left their clothes and belongings. And at the end of the room, there was an opening leading into a row of shower heads. Two of the showers had a little curtain in case anyone was shy. We had the same in the boy's changing room, but no one ever used them. There was a rumour that those who used curtains had a small dick, and none of us wanted to be told that we weren't well endowed, so none of us used it.

Ivan ran over to one of the curtained showerheads and looked back at us. "We'll hide in here!" he said, logically. "I mean, I've heard my sister talk, and she says that no girl wants to be told that she has small boobs. So they probably don't hide, in case anyone will say that they're just hiding their breasts. Get it?" Alfred nodded eagerly. He had forgotten that he didn't like Ivan being here and instead ran over to him to congratulate him on the idea. I slowly followed, not in a hurry, taking in the surroundings. I could smell perfume. On the floor someone had left a pink thong. I felt a shudder run down my spine and pulled a face of horror as I stopped in front of it.

"Does your sister wear one of those?" I asked Ivan and nodded to it. He shrugged.

"I think all girls wear them." He spoke as if he knew it all. I decided to believe him. After all, he was the one with a sister.

"I don't want my girl to wear such," Alfred chirped, "my mom says that girls who wear those are sluts."

"They're not," Ivan snorted, "girls wear them because it excites men."

"Well, sluts are to excite men, aren't they?"

"Yeah, but would you want a girl who doesn't excite you?" Ivan raised his brows and Alfred felt he had no answer. Ivan smiled smugly. "I thought so."

"Hey, I can hear them." I turned around as I heard running. From the stairs loud screams and laughter was heard. I looked back at Ivan and Alfred who were like statues, standing stiffly, not knowing what to do. As the sounds grew louder, I started flailing my arms around and ran over to them. "Get behind the curtain!" I hushed, and we all three stumbled together behind it, making sure it covered us up. We looked at each other, Alfred muttered,

"Who's touching my groin?" and then we all shut up as the door was suddenly swung open and feet were crossing the tiled floor. Voices we didn't recognized started speaking.

"Fuck that bitch! I hate that coach! She's so going on my black-list!"

"Do you think she has a husband?"

"She's probably a dyke!" Laughter. We looked at each other, wondering what a dyke was.

"She's got saggy boobs."

"I think she swings them around her neck in the winter. For warmth." Giggling. We could hear how the benches creaked as someone sat down on them. I was pressed to the very back of the wall. I could feel my shirt getting wet, and with my nose stuck in Alfred's hair, I could smell he hadn't taken a bath this morning either. But what worried me the most was my heart. It was beating so fast that I was sure it could be heard by everyone. No one commented on it, though.

"Hey, how's it going with you and that boy?"

"Which boy?"

"Don't be daft - you know.. Berwald."

"Oh, that's the football-guy, right?"

"Yeah, well.. I asked him out." There was a silence. Everyone lowered their voices.

"What did he say?"

"He said he wanted a real housewife, not someone revolutionary like me." Pause. Then loud laughter.

"He said that?"

"So old!"

"Good God, I didn't expect that from him!"

"Me neither."

"Damn - does anyone have an extra san pad?"

"I have - eew, you're bleeding through!" Alfred made gagging noises and clenched his nose. I knew how he felt. Ivan was the only one who seemed to have heard it all before. He just stood there, in front of the curtain, waiting for the right moment to peek.

Finally the girls started moving to the shower heads. We heard one start far away from us and a sigh as someone stepped in underneath the stream. Quickly, others followed. Water started sliding across the floor and over to where we were standing with our shoes dirty from having walked down the path. The grass and sand became mud underneath our feet. Watery mud, slippery mud.

More shower heads went on. Ivan looked back at us. He mouthed a silent, 'should I?' and Alfred nodded. He moved the curtain a little to the side and peeked. We couldn't see what he saw, but his eyes widened and he gawked.

"What?" Alfred whispered. "What?"

"She's got some big nuclear weapons up there," he mumbled. Alfred wanted to see. He pushed Ivan a little and went over to the crack.

"Fuck, Ivan, your sister's hairy."

"She's not!"

"She is!"

"Let me see!" I begged. Alfred moved to let me, but Ivan wasn't done, and as we were fighting for the crack, we suddenly got a hold of the curtain. And dragged it down with us.

We fell, slipped down on the floor and ended in a pile, me on top. I looked up and around. All the talked had stopped, all the girls were looking at us. They'd stopped doing what they were doing, were just staring in silence. My eyes fell on Ivan's sister, and I heard myself say loudly,

"Wow, nipples.." before everyone started screaming and running to cover themselves up. The three of us stumbled onto our feet and ran as fast as we could to get out, no one tried stopping us as they were all without clothes. I could hear Katyusha cry Ivan's name over and over, and something about perverts and idiots and morons. Then we were out the door, down the stairs. We didn't take the time to pick up out bags, we just ran through the fields, letting the nature punish us with scratched all over. Alfred stumbled into a big hogweed, but he didn't even cry. His eyes were big and glossy. His mind was still left with the girls.

We all separated without even knowing it. Ivan went for his bike back at the school and went home. Alfred was determined on hiding in his playhouse without me. I didn't care. I went straight home to digest the experience.

That night as I was put to sleep, I was just lying there, sating up into the ceiling and wondering about how girls looked naked. They really were different. So soft and vulnerable, it seemed. I wasn't sure I really liked it.

We weren't supposed to tell our parents, but we didn't have to. The girls had found our bags outside the centre and had read our names in the books. The next day we were sent home early with a note to our parents who were later called up by the principal, instructing them to teach us better manners.

I don't know what happened to Ivan, but I know that Alfred was grounded. Furthermore, his dad wanted to teach him a lesson. The next week I saw him running miles around town with Alfred, once again he was using sport as a punishment. I couldn't play with him that week, either, for his mom was sure we would just be sitting discussing what we had seen. I don't think we would have if we had gotten the chance - we were too afraid to hear what the other thought of the seen.

Instead I spend the week being treated like a king. My dad thought it was a brilliant thing we had done, and as mom had told me off, he took me out for fast-food and comics. "Finally," he said as we were drinking coke, "finally you're a man! No poofter, that's for sure, I am proud of you!" I remember how he smiled and shined that week, like I had given him the best gift I could possible give him. For once I felt that he and I actually had something in common, something to share, and I lied to him about my feelings for what I'd seen.

"I liked the breast the best," I said. "They were.. Uh.."

"Sexy?" he tried.

"Erotic, yeah.." He patted my shoulder.

"You're a good son, Arthur. The best son any man could want." I felt I could take over the world, my heart was filled to the brim with confidence.

* * *

Confidence wasn't the only thing the experience brought with it. It brought a game as well.

I think seeing the girls made us more interested in the body, our own as well, so Alfred came up with something called sack-tapping. It was a game about touching each other's groin. The rules were simple;

Only one would have the tapping-right.

The one with the tapping-right could tap anyone in the game, there was no excuse and no one could say they didn't wanted to be tapped by a certain person.

The tapping should be a firm tap at the groin of the person.

The person who had been tapped were then the one with tapping-right. He could however not tap the same guy who had tapped him. He had to go tap someone else.

The game started with only Alfred, Ivan and me, but soon other boys wanted to join in. Everyone had heard of our little visit to the girls' room, and they thought it was cool, and being the cool-boys all of a sudden, people wanted to hang out with us and do what we did. Alfred said that others could join, but that we were allowed to tap more roughly than they, since we were the ones with experience. Since we were all children, they accepted the unfair game.

The first ones to join were the Italian brothers, Feliciano and Lovino. Soon after them, Kiku wanted to be in the game as well, along with Yao, a friend of his who didn't go to our class. There was an older boy named Gilbert who said he wanted to be in the game as well. He was sixteen and one of the big boys, so we allowed him at first because he was, well, one of the big. But he was very violent and wouldn't just tap, but almost crunch our balls when playing, so we all lied and told him that the game had ended, so that he wouldn't touch us anymore.

I quickly noticed that Alfred would often tap me when he had the tapping-right. It was inconvenient, because whenever he tapped me, he prevented me from tapping him. And the more he tapped me, the more I wanted to tap him back.

I also noticed that it wasn't really tapping, more groping. I didn't mind, I mean, we were close friends at that point, but I couldn't help but feel left behind. If he was to grope, I should grope as well! At some point it annoyed me so much that one day as we were playing in his shack, I stopped in the middle of our card-game, looked at him and said,

"I want to grope you." I remember his flustered cheeks, his scared eyes and the way he clenched his legs together, discreetly. But best of all I remember how he cleared his throat and whispered,

"Okay, if I can grope you as you grope me."

Needless to say, that was the beginning of something very new.


	4. 4

Mom was always very protective with me. It was as if she had to live up to the expectations of today's parents, and she always took the tests in the mommy magazines to see if she was a good parent. I came to suffer under her worries as she always made up new rules that would better my behaviour. There were a tons of rules, and I never remembered half of them. (Luckily, though, neither did she).

One of mom's rules involved the movies I was allowed to watch. Even simple romantic story-lines worried her, because she didn't want to sexualise me. If we were watching television, and a couple showed signs of going for a kiss, she would go out of her way to distract me from watching the screen. Suddenly she would tickle me or offer me cookies or ask me to wash my hands. It was tiresome, for I never got to see what she wanted me to avoid.

Alfred, however, could watch anything he wanted, and often more than he would like to. At school he would sometimes complain about being tired because his mom kept him up the whole evening so that they could watch some love movie together. He could quote Casablanca, My Fair Lady and Roman Holiday as easily as he could quote Captain America. But what was even more interesting was that because of that, he had way more experience than me. When his parents left for shopping, he could just go and turn on the telly and watch all channels, and he did that often and learned. So when I demanded to grope him, his shock only lasted a few seconds, for soon he was on his knees, crawling across our card-game to get to me.

"I know how we shall do this. I saw it in an infomercial."

"You saw groping?" Alfred shook his head and sat down beside me. He wrinkled his brows to look very important and gave me that know-it-all-look of his.

"There was a lady in a long dress, telling about teens and sexuality." I gawked.

"Do they show that on telly?" I asked, stunned. I thought it was all cartoons, news and people kissing. Alfred looked pleased with my reaction, for now he had proved that he knew more than me, and therefore I had to listen to him. I was going to anyway, leaned in close to him so that he could lower his voice.

"Yeah, people can write questions, and she answers them together with a doctor. I've only seen it twice, but it's really cool."

"Is it like Tino's classes?" Tino was one of our teachers from school, and the only one we called by first name. He was a short, shy man who had been given the task of telling us about the birds and the bees. Apparently they had found that discussion appropriate after our visit to the girls' changing room. But he was very wary about it all, and he told us everything with as few details as possible. That girls once a month bleed and get angry because they can have children, and that boys should sleep with their hands above the duvet at night. Ivan had asked him about masturbation, because Gilbert always told us that it is a wonderful invention, but Tino had just blushed and told him that he wasn't sure what the word mean.

Alfred shook his head. "It's nothing like Tino's classes. This woman hides nothing, she answers all questions in details. And you know what she said in the last show?" I shook my head, for of course I didn't know. Alfred grabbed me around the cheeks and stared into my eyes. "She said that it's normal for boys to touch each other." I ripped my head away. My cheeks had reached the colour of beetroots.

"She didn't say that!"

"She did!"

"You're lying."

"Hey," Alfred crossed his arms, "is it you or me who has watched television?" He got me with that obvious question, and I looked down at my sneakers, too embarrassed to look at him.

"Then.. How do we do it?" I asked, and he seemed to give it a good thought.

"Maybe.. If we try sitting next to each other."

"Shoulder to shoulder?"

"Yeah." I collected Alfred's Superman-cards and pictures and put them in the corner to make room for us. Alfred was keeping an eye on me as if he feared I would run away. I quickly returned to sit next to him and bumped my shoulder up close to his to prove that I was going nowhere.

"Okay, then what?" I asked. My breath had gotten a bit unsteady, and when I closed my hands, my fingertips scraped across my sweaty palms. I wasn't sure why I was nervous. I had touched Alfred before. But maybe it was because we were alone. There was no one to laugh at us or scold us or tell us that what we did was wrong. We were alone with this experience.

"Then, uhm.. I guess we grope?" Alfred said, suddenly sounding unsure. We sat quietly for a few seconds, since none of us wanted to make the first move, but then suddenly Alfred slammed his hand in between my legs and cupped me firmly. I gasped and looked at him, more surprised than offended, but he wasn't looking at me. He was glaring the other way, and I could just see a line of red creeping across his cheeks as he moved his fingers around in my lap. As I still did nothing, he cleared his throat. "Aren't you going to touch me?" I blinked and straightened up while looking at my hands. I was the one who asked in the first place, so I couldn't really back down now. Instead I closed my eyes and fumbled my way across his thigh to his groin. Then I grabbed around it firmly and stiffened.

It was a weird feeling, but I was also somewhat proud. It might sound strange, but after all Alfred was the popular guy at school. I wasn't really anything, but still I was the one who was touching him where no one had touched him before. It made my heart beat faster in joy, and I suddenly couldn't hold back a grin that was spreading across my face. I was lucky that Alfred still wasn't looking at me, else he would surely had made fun of me.

I don't know how Alfred felt, but we sat like that for a few minutes. Neither of us said a word, we just let our fingers wander. And then, as if we had silently timed our movements, we let go of each other and both took in a deep breath. My face was burning, and so was Alfred's, but as he turned to face me, I could see how his eyes shined. I shyly moved to the corner and grabbed his card game.

"Want to play?" I asked, and he nodded, and we sat playing for the next hour, both grinning like fools and never looking each other in the eyes.

* * *

From that day on we were inseparable. We had sleepovers every weekend, swapped lunchboxes at school, and even Kiku gave up and left his seat so that we could sit together in class. I was kind of mean to him, for I was so dazzled by Alfred that I forgot all about our friendship. He started hanging out with Yao, and without me really noticing it, we just stopped being friends.

Alfred was clearly pleased with the new arrangement, he even seemed to gloat over the situation. When he had troubles with writing an essay in class, and I leaned in to help him, he would suddenly have his arm around my shoulders and his eyes searching for Kiku's face. He was really provoking, but I put up with it because he was my best friend.

However, the higher you climb, the harder you fall. After a month in ecstasy, Alfred suddenly stayed home from school one day. I was used to him coming late, especially when we had maths first time in the morning, but as he still hadn't showed up around noon, I started to get worried. And not only worried, I also felt betrayed. Why hadn't Alfred told me that he wasn't coming to school? He couldn't be ill, he had been running around playing basketball the day before.

It was a horrible day, because everyone kept asking me about Alfred, and I had to tell them that I didn't know anything. It made them look at me as if I had been abandoned, and I got a pain in my tummy. I had to leave in the middle of PE because I couldn't stand up straight. Instead I ran to the changing room and huddled up on a bench. I felt like sobbing, but poofters sob, so instead I just whined girly and pulled at my hair in anger.

I was confused. Had Alfred dumped me? I've seen popular boys dump their friends before, because they could get cooler mates. Or what if he had just gotten tired of me? I couldn't figure out which was the right answer to my questions, so I decided to pull myself together and just go ask him.

It was a long trip home. It felt lonely not having Alfred telling my jokes about girls or betting on how late he would be for school the next morning. It was kind of ironic, for we had been doing just that the day before, and I had said that there would probably come a day when he wouldn't show up at all.

"That's dumb," he'd answered and rolled his eyes, "dad would never allow me to stay home! Not even if I'd lost both of my legs."

"Never?" I'd asked, and he had given it a long thought.

"Maybe if something really dramatic happened. Like, if someone died." I wrinkled my brows and shuddered. I hoped no one had really passed away.

As I knocked on Alfred's door, his mom answered it. She looked at me with kind eyes as if she had expected me. "He's in his room," she said and stepped aside, and I thanked her and quickly got out of my shoes. I leapt up the stairs to Alfred's room, but stopped outside his door. It had a "Don't enter"-sign, a pretty abused one since his dad kept taking it down, and Alfred kept putting it up again. I could hear music from his room, and the fear suddenly returned to my stomach. If he was well enough to sit and listen to music, then why didn't he come to school? I had to take in a deep breath and collect all courage in me before I could knock on his door. The music was turned off.

"It's not all that loud!" Alfred yelled. I cleared my throat.

"Alfred?" He went silent. I could hear him crossing the room.

"Arthur, is that you?"

"Yeah, can I come in?"

"Just a sec.." I pressed my ear to the door. I could hear him mess around with something, then a drawer was closed. As the handle started moving, I quickly stepped back and stood nicely waiting for him to show himself. He opened the door and smiled at me. "Hey."

"Hey." I smiled back at him. He awkwardly stepped aside.

"Come on in, it's not like we're strangers." I got in and he closed the door behind me. I went over and sat on his bed, letting my school back fall to the floor.

"I have homework for you." He grimaced and shrugged it off. I wasn't going to force him to take it, so I just leaned back against a pillow and swung with my legs in the air. He sat down on the floor in front of me.

"How was school?"

"Uhm.. Okay?" He narrowed his eyes. He could see I was lying, and I looked away.

"Just okay?"

"Why weren't you at school?" I returned the question and looked back at him. Now he was the one to try and avoid answering. He got back onto his feet and went over to his shelves to search for a comic. I wasn't going to let him escape, so I followed him. "Alfred, you're not ill. Then why?" He grabbed the latest issue of Superman and handed it to me.

"Want to read it?"

"Alfred!" Alfred shrunk. The way he avoided my question made me feel uneasy. I had to bite my lower lip to avoid whining.

"Does it matter?" he asked and stepped away from me as I reached out for him. That did it for me. I kicked his shinbone. Alfred cried out in surprise and stepped back further, now limping slightly. "What the hell?"

"Don't you want to be friends anymore, is that it?" I yelled. Alfred's eyes doubled in size. I took in a deep breath. "You could just have told me!"

"Why do you think that?" he asked, stunned. I wiped my nose off in my arm and marched over to get my bag. Alfred grabbed my arm and forced me to stay. His fingers bore into my meat, and it hurt. He was much stronger than me. I pulled to get free.

"It hurts! Let go!" I demanded, but he wouldn't, so I kicked him again. Alfred cried but kept holding me.

"Stop kicking me!"

"Why weren't you in school?"

"I don't want to tell!"

"So you hate me!"

"I don't hate you!"

"Yes you do!" He have my arm a harsh pull. It brought tears to my eyes, and I slammed my forehead against his shoulder and just got stuck like that. I had started sobbing, was now kicking his bare feet with mine, but not as forcefully as before. "It was so embarrassing, everyone kept asking where you were. I thought we were friends!" Alfred seemed not to know how to handle the situation. I just felt lost, especially standing like this, tearing up in front of him. It was official. I was a girl, a chick, a sorry excuse for a man. My dad would've said that to me, but Alfred just patted my back and sighed.

"I.. I am sorry, I should've told you. I.."

"Why?" I interrupted him, far too impatient, "why didn't you show up?" I looked up into his eyes. He opened his mouth, then whispered,

"I.. I've gotten glasses." I hesitated.

"..what?" Alfred's face went completely red, and he shoved me aside and opened a drawer. From it he withdrew a pair of glasses. I glared at them. "..is that all?" Alfred huffed and put them on, looking rather insulted.

"It means a great deal to me! I mean, I look completely different!" He turned around to look at his reflection in the window. He grimaced. "Everyone's going to bully me now. It was mom's idea, but dad supported her, because my sight has gotten worse. It's so mean! I just- ouch!" Alfred huddled together as I whipped his head with his newest issue of Superman. He looked at me with hurt eyes. "What?"

"What yourself!" I panted and straightened up, holding the magazine between my shaking fingers, "I thought there was something wrong! That you hated me or someone had died or you had died!" Alfred blinked and pursed his lips.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously!" I whipped him again. He started laughing, so I aimed for him harder. He grabbed my wrists.

"Watch out, it's a pretty cool comic."

"Sorry." I dropped it to his desk. Alfred was correcting his glasses, looking a bit awkward.

"..How do I look?" he suddenly asked. I crossed my arms and decided to play the role of the enemy.

"Like crap." He stuck out his tongue.

"No, honestly, Arthur. How do I look?" I uncrossed my arms and sloped my head to the side.

Alfred looked differently, no doubt. But instead of looking younger or more nerdy, he actually appeared older. As if he had gained a few inches and two years. I didn't want to tell him, though. He didn't need another ego-boost, so I shrugged.

"You look the same." He smiled as if I couldn't have given him a greater compliment. He went back to the window and nodded towards his reflection.

"Yeah.. Yeah, maybe I do."

"So.. That was really the only reason for you staying home from school?" He nodded. I sighed, making him chuckle. He went over and gave me a short hug.

"Sorry for making you worry."

"It's fine. I'm just glad you didn't.. dump me or something." He raised his brows and looked down at me. I stuttered, "I mean-"

"Arthur, I would never dumb you." The tone in his voice was so serious that I felt my heart skip a beat. I stared into his eyes and suddenly felt like the main character of one of mom's forbidden movies. As he leaned down, I had to free myself from his arms and grab the comic off of his desk.

"Can-uh.. Can we read this?" He nodded and hugged himself.

"Okay, cool. Go to the shack, I'll go get some cookies from mom." I went down the stairs, my heart throbbing like mad and my lungs missing air. What had almost happened? I couldn't think about it, because it made me feel dizzy, but in a good way. I wondered if Alfred's infomercial-lady knew about these feelings, but I couldn't really ask her. I wondered about who I then could ask, though no one was probably the answer.

* * *

Alfred didn't get bullied in school. Of course Ivan had to comment on it and tell him that he was a nerd, but then Yao said the same, and suddenly Ivan didn't think it was all that funny.

"Only one can bully Alfred," he said enraged, "and that's me!" Then everyone stopped talking about Alfred's new look. Alfred himself noticed nothing, and as he even got a compliment from an older girl, the world was his to conquer.

Meanwhile I was bothered, for Christmas was coming up. I hadn't thought much of it, but Alfred had suddenly let me know that he had gotten me a present, and that left me with no other option than to get him one as well. But I wasn't very rich, and I knew he wanted expensive stuff, and I had no idea what would make him happy. I tried getting Alfred to tell me how expensive his gift to me was, but he wouldn't tell me anything. Instead I asked my mom for advise.

"Why don't you make him something yourself?" she'd asked. That was of course a rotten piece of advice. Even I wouldn't want something homemade from Alfred, and I went pretty easy on the whole present-rush. It was way to girly.

Luckily my dad agreed, and he drove me to town so we could look at shops. I went directly for the comic store, but inside it I didn't know what to go for. He had more than enough posters, and comics as well. While I was running around between the shelves, dad suddenly showed up next to me with a box.

"Look at this," he said, and I took the box out of his hands. It was a little figure of Captain America, and a really cool one. Alfred would love it, I just knew it! But then I looked at the price.

"Dad, I can't afford it," I said and looked up at him. He looked over his shoulder as if someone was following us, then handed me a bank note. I gawked. He winked at me.

"Don't worry, just go get it, okay?" I hugged him and leapt for the desk. Dad seldom showed his more humane sides, but when he did, he did it good. I bought the figure and felt like a hero, and he even helped me lie to mom when she asked us what it had cost. I spend the whole evening wondering about if I should wrap it up nicely with a ribbon, or if it would look too girly. In the end I just stuffed it into an old bag and hid it underneath my bed. I couldn't wait!

Christmas came slowly. Miss Madeleine gave each of us a bag of sweets when holidays kicked in, and Alfred and I shared ours on our way home. It had started to snow, and we were jogging through snowdrifts.

"How're you spending Christmas?" Alfred asked and stole one of my chocolates. I kicked my way across the street.

"I think mom's family comes to visit."

"What about your dad's?"

"They live too far away. What about you?" Alfred took another one of my chocolates and shrugged.

"I think we're leaving on the 24th to go and see some friends." I looked up at the clear sky.

"Oh, then I won't get to see you open my present."

"Hey, why don't we do it tonight?" Alfred suggested. I handed him all my chocolates and stopped.

"Tonight?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's only the 22nd, but I really want to see you open your present." I smiled.

"Okay, in the shack?"

"In the shack."

We met up a few hours later as agreed upon. Alfred had also stuffed his present in to a bag, so I felt relieved as I handed him his. We sat face to face as we unwrapped our presents, he finished first (of course). His eyes lit up and he grinned, peeling the figure free from the plastic.

"Wow, that's so cool!" he said and turned it around in his hands. I stopped for a few seconds and looked over at him, a shy smile on my lips.

"You really like it?" He hushed at me and just waved as if he wanted me to continue with my present. He was busy inspecting Captain America's boots as I finally got through the bag. I blinked. "Alfred, you-.." I held the huge teacup between my hands. It had rainbow-coloured unicorns all over it, and stuffed into it was a unicorn-plush. I peeled it out from the cup and laughed. Alfred scratched the back of his neck.

"I hope it's an okay gift. Dad seemed worried."

"I love it!" I declared, and I meant it. It was always a hell of a struggle with my parents when I wanted them to go get me unicorn-stuff, so to have Alfred giving it to me without me asking that meant a lot to me. I out the stuff aside and leaned over and hugged him. Alfred laughed as well.

"Add it to your collection!"

"I will!" Something wet fell on my forehead. I looked up to see Alfred's lips move from my face and gawked. He grinned at me.

"Up for a snowball-fight?"

"Uerh.." He shoved me aside and leapt down the ladder, holding his figure in one hand.

"Captain America will beat your ass!" I wiped my forehead off in my shirt and shook my head.

"Not if I have a say in this!" I grabbed the plush and followed him.

It was a good Christmas.


	5. 5

By April Alfred had gained an inch and yet an idea. "It's time for us to conquer the world," he said, and though he hadn't even managed to conquer his amounts of homework yet, he seemed ready for something more thrilling than Shakespeare and sums. Mom had just made up a new cleaning rule, and so I was busy rearranging my room for the second time that week as Alfred dropped by with a homemade map over our village. He slammed it down onto my floor and demanded my attention, so I let dust be dust and sat down next to him.

"What's that?" I asked and pointed to a red, thick line he had painted that showed a roundabout way to get to the church.

"That's my plan," Alfred announced and seemed pretty proud. He crinkled his nose and sent me an ecstatic look. He looked like one of those naughty boys you find in children's books, so I smiled and wrapped my arms around my legs.

"Why do you want to go to the church?"

"I don't want to go to the church," he said and pointed to where the red line ended. "I want to go to the odd house!" I blinked and looked at the map.

"…You're kidding."

"I am not!"

"You can't go there!"

"I want to!" Alfred stood up and looked down at me as if I was a complaining baby. I got up myself.

"I am not going to the odd house!"

"You are! I will be going too!"

"I don't care!"

"Are you scared?" I didn't want to admit it, but I was.

Most villages have some kind of a haunted home that there are rumours about. It doesn't even have to be old or vacant, it just has to have some kind of atmosphere to it that makes children start gossiping. The odd house had that atmosphere. It was a lonesome building with two floors and two chimneys, but only one of them smoked in the winter. There was always light on the first floor, but never on the ground floor, and though the windowsills were filled with cute potted plants and curtains, no one ever mowed the garden or watered the flowers. It was a lawn of weeds and tall bushes and trees bending over from the weight of their top. It was odd, the odd house.

I kept hesitating, I didn't want to answer Alfred, but then I shrugged. "I am not scared," I said and went to wipe off my shelves with a cloth. Alfred huffed.

"You are."

"I am not!" I turned around and looked at him. "I am coming with you, okay? I am not scared.." But I was scared. There was more to the odd house than just the house, there were the people as well.

Supposedly there was only one man living there. There was only one name on the door, and one name in the phonebook, but every night two shadows could be seen walking around. We sometimes saw the man that lived there. He wouldn't tell us his name, but he was really old and he claimed to be as old as the Roman Empire, so we called him Rome. He liked children a lot, but he never spoke with grown ups. My mom had gotten the idea that he was a child molester, and she had told me never to go near him. But I believed that he was just an old man with a troubled house. After all, he would never touch us, only speak to us about random things like the colour of the sky and what we would have for dinner.

I did tell Alfred about my mom's concerns, though, but he just shrugged it off. "If he's a molester, we'll find out," he said. I wasn't sure I wanted to find out, but I wasn't going to back down to Alfred either.

The following Friday we met up after dinner at Alfred's house. He had packed a bag with water guns (just to be sure), comics and cookies. I stared at the cookies. "How long do you think we'll be gone?" I asked him, and he shrugged

"Better safe than sorry." I took a cookie, and he took one, and then we started walking the route Alfred had decided.

I had told my parents a fib to get out of the house this late. Something about Kiku having a sleepover with Alfred, and that I had been invited and wanted to go. First mom had said no, but as soon as I brought in Alfred's name, my dad insisted that I went.

"Come on," he had said to my mom, "he needs to be with some men!" My mom never argues with dad, so I left, and no one questioned that I didn't bring a pyjama or a rucksack with stuff.

"What did you tell your parents?" I asked Alfred as we turned around a corner and headed for the supermarket. He smiled a little and didn't dare to look at me as he answered,

"I didn't tell them." I slapped his shoulder.

"What?" Alfred took a step aside and pouted, but he didn't look at me still. He kept going.

"Well, they think I am out on the lawn playing.."

"You have to tell them!"

"They would never let me leave the house at this time of the day!" It was only seven, but the more I learned about the US from Alfred's parents, the more I understood that they were really strict with stuff like being out late, because they had been it in America. Their neighbourhood hadn't been as safe as this one, and though Alfred had quickly adapted to the surroundings, they hadn't. Alfred sent me a sorry look. "You know how they are," he said, and I nodded.

"Yeah.." I looked down at my shoes, "I know. If they ask, just say you went with me to Kiku's place, okay?" He nodded and gave my shoulder a friendly bump with his own.

"Thanks."

We continued around the corner and could now see the church by the end of the road. We had started to walk slower, and out chit-chatting about Superman went quiet after a while. Normally, the church seemed scary in the evening with its painted windows and huge graveyard, but now it was the neat, little house next to it that demanded our attention and made our Adam's apples jump.

"What.. What is it exactly we're to find out?" I asked Alfred as I suddenly realised that he never told me. Alfred took his sweet time answering me. He drew in a sharp breath.

"We have to know who that shadow belongs to," he said and wrinkled his brows as if it was a very important case all of a sudden, "we need to know."

"I am not sure I need to know," I said and stopped. Alfred kept walking a few steps and then turned around. He looked at me.

"What?" I scratched my arm and looked away.

"We don't know if it's someone.. Someone evil," I said. Alfred walked back to me and grabbed my wrists and tried to drag me with him. But I stood my ground.

"You promised!" he said, almost wailed, "you did, you promised!"

"I know, but I-… Oh…" Alfred raised his brows.

"Oh?"

"Behind you." Alfred turned around, and we both stared at a shadow that had gotten out of the odd house. We couldn't see who it was, but the person walked out into the street. And now the person walked towards us. "A-Alfred," I stuttered and suddenly hugged his arm closely when before I had tried to get rid of it, "w-what-"

"Run!" I did, before Alfred even shouted it. He still had me by the wrist, and so it was kind of awkward, because he ran faster than me, and I kind of ended up being a rag doll in his hand, just stumbling after him and barely making it.

"Alfred! Slow down!" I yelled, and he finally did as we had reached the supermarket. He looked back over his shoulder. The shadow was following us, but slowly. It wasn't running. "Do you think it has seen us?" I asked Alfred in a whisper.

"I don't want to find out!" he said. So we started to run again, all the way back to Alfred's home where I had to spend the night so my parent's wouldn't find out that I had lied to them. It was good, for we stayed up almost all night to speak about the shadow, and the more we said, the scarier it became, and in the end I could hardly sleep. We ended up both sleeping close in Alfred's bed, just to be found and be called 'faggots' by his dad. We weren't sure what faggots were, but he laughed and messed up my hair.

"Don't ask your dad," he said and went down to make us pancakes. I looked after him confused while Alfred corrected his Batman-boxers.

"We need to go back there today," he said, and the tone in his voice was so serious that when I looked at him, it was with a wary look in my eyes.

"Why?" I asked, "We're lucky to be alive!" Alfred started to get dressed. He didn't say anything for a while, but then he turned to face me and crossed his arms.

"Because real men don't run away." I wasn't sure that being a real man meant to go and check out odd houses, but I didn't want Alfred to question my manhood either, so I sighed and stole on of his shirts to put on. I didn't liked having to wear the same shirt two days in a row, and though I doubted that Alfred's clothes were all that clean, it was better than the second choice that was right now lying under his bed, all folded and yucky.

"Do we have to do it so late?" I then tried, but Alfred nodded.

"It has to be at night. That's when the strange things happen."

"I don't want strange things to happen!"

"Too bad, that's what we're in for!" We glared at each other for a few seconds, then Alfred's dad yelled that the breakfast was ready, and we forgot all about the odd house. At least until sunset.

* * *

Alfred said that we were going out to play soccer. His mom told us to be back in half an hour, and then we left the house and walked in the opposite direction of the football field. Once again Alfred was bringing his stuffed bag, and we ate the cookies and discussed what to do at the house.

"I want to know about that shadow upstairs," I said, and Alfred nodded.

"Yeah, it's somewhat strange.. And I want to know why they don't have a gardener!" A made a face.

"Not everyone can afford that."

"Well, so why they don't mow the lawn once in a while."

"Yeah, yeah.. I want to know that as well."

We turned at the supermarket. The street was calm, and we slowly walked down it, but then Alfred started to march, and I had to run to catch up with him. "I don't want to look scared," he explained, "maybe they can smell fear. I've seen that in movies." So we both marched, and we actually didn't see any shadow and made it all the way down to the house.

The garden was enclosed with a fence. Alfred tried tugging at the garden gate, but it made a sound, and we decided just to climb over it instead of letting anyone know that we were coming. It was a mild weather in the beginning of April, and every plant and flower smelled as if they had just been born all over again. I kind of liked the feeling of standing in the middle of a jungle, but Alfred said that jungles were for Tarzans and Janes, not English villages.

"What's for English villages?" I asked him, and he arrogantly said,

"American dreams," as if he owned us all. I wanted to kick him, but then the light on the ground floor went off and the first floor lit up. As always. We looked at each other. Then we started to walk down the path towards the house.

A cat was complaining somewhere in between the bushes. I looked around, but I couldn't see any animals. Alfred kept his eyes at the top windows, and as we reached the front door, we slowly started to walk around the house to search for anything that could help us doing something. At the back of the house, a wooden ladder was placed. Alfred quickly ran over to it and grabbed around it.

"We can peek with this!" he said and threw his bag of stuff to the ground. I scratched my cheek and looked around.

"I am not sure.. I mean, maybe-"

"We can't go again," Alfred interrupted me, "come on!" I took a hold of the ladder as well, and we struggled our way over to the nearest window. We put it right next to it, so that they couldn't see it from the inside, and then we fought about who should be the first to climb. Neither of us wanted to go first, so we did a game of rock-paper-scissor, and I lost which meant that I had to risk my life.

"I'll be right behind you," Alfred whispered, and normally it would've helped me to overcome my fear, but this wasn't PE or maths, no, this was serious business.

I started to climb up while Alfred held the ladder. I went slowly, because I wouldn't like to fall and land on the ground, but after a while I had made it to the window. As I was right next to it, I stopped and took a deep breath. My heart was beating so fast by then, and sweat had started to stick to my armpits and my forehead. What was I going to see? I flinched as a shadow moved inside, and I quickly started to climb down.

"Get up again!" Alfred whispered and slapped at my butt to get me up.

"There's the shadow in there!" I whined in panic. Alfred kept slapping me. I climbed up again. I wasn't keen on looking in through the window, but I had no other choice it seemed, and so I closed my eyes and leaned in to feel the bright light lit up my face. Nothing happened. I slowly opened my eyes.

I was looking into a bedroom. It was painted mint-green, and there was a double-bed, but only one person lying in it. It wasn't Rome, it was some girl it seemed, with long, blonde hair. She was flickering through the pages of a book, sometimes stopping to take an extra look at something, and then she continued. She looked bored, I noted. Then a door opened, and a man I recognized came in. Rome. He was in a silly pyjama, all pink, and the girl looked up and started to say a lot of thing, and she threw the book at him. Rome laughed and started to dance, and the girl got up and -

"Oh God.."

"What?" Alfred asked, "What do you see?"

"Oh God..!" The girl was no girl. The girl was a naked man, and he ran over and grabbed Rome by his cheeks, took his good time looking at him and then kissed him. I almost fell down the ladder, hammered my forehead against the window and then slipped. Alfred cried and tried to catch me, but I was too heavy, and we both smacked against the ground. The ladder wobbled and then fell to the side, just missing us. The window was opened and the girly man looked out.

"They're not thieves, they're kids!" he said and sounded surprised. I was on top of Alfred, trying to get up, but at the same time Alfred was trying to push me off of him, and so we ended up just lying, struggling. Then I was lifted off of Alfred by someone much bigger and stronger than him. I looked up and into the eyes of Rome. He grinned.

"Oh, it's you!" I tried smiling.

"Good evening, sir." Alfred glared. Then he slammed the back of his head back into the ground.

* * *

Our cookies were put in a little bowel and I got a cup of tea and Alfred got a soda, and then we just sat there at a huge dining table and stared at Rome who sat across of us. Upstairs, the girly man was taking a bath. He was singing all the while, but better than Alfred's dad did it.

Rome didn't say anything, he looked like he wanted us to start a conversation, so I cleared my throat and took yet a cookie. "These are nice," I said, and Rome nodded thoughtfully and took one as well.

"They are. Is it dark chocolate?"

"70%," Alfred informed. We all nodded. Then it was quiet. Rome dipped his cookie in his cup of coffee and then looked at us.

"Tell me, what were you boys doing out there?" Alfred and I looked at each other. I bit my lower lip and kicked his foot.

"W-well," Alfred stuttered, "we-uhm…"

"Yeah, well…" I added in.

"We wanted to know about the odd house," Alfred then said, and I kicked him again, so hard he cried out. "What? We did!"

"You can't let him know that we call it the odd house," I whispered furiously, but also loudly. Rome started to chuckle.

"It's fine, I know what you boys call this home. It is rather odd, isn't it?" He gestured around. Well, it was. He had filled the place with old maps and books and statues of naked women and men and clothes. From the ceiling, a huge lamp formed like a leprechaun was hanging. I glared up at it.

"We don't want to be mean," I tried to explain, "but there's so much we don't understand."

"Like, why do you never do anything to the garden?" Alfred chirped. Rome got up and got him yet a soda since he had already finished his can. As he came back, he sat down with a heavy sigh.

"We live right next to the graveyard, and quite frankly I don't like to look at the tombstones when I wake up. All these trees and bushes hide that sight for me."

"Then why do you have two chimneys when only one smoke?" He looked at me and grinned.

"Oh, but one of those chimneys doesn't work anymore! We use it as a shaft to throw down our laundry from upstairs to the bathroom down here where the washing machine is." Alfred blinked.

"That's so cool!" I nodded in agreement. It was like in the comics where they have all kinds of cool stuff. Like a shaft for laundry. Rome roared with laughter. "Was it your idea?"

"Nah, it was my lovers." I bit the inner of my cheek and looked at Alfred. He hadn't seen the naked man.

"Uhm.. Why is your lover a guy?" I asked and looked back at Rome. Alfred choked on his soda.

"Your lover is a dude?" Rome scratched the back of his neck, and he looked uncomfortable. He leaned in over the table and tried to smile fatherly.

"Guys, there are many ways in this world to love. I ended up loving a man."

"That's… odd," I mumbled and crinkled my nose. I looked at Alfred for support, but he was staring at Rome with cautious eyes.

"What is his name?" Alfred asked. Rome seemed to ponder.

"Well, since you call me Rome, why don't we call him Germania?"

"That's a fucking dumb idea." The girly man had returned. He was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. He looked very pale, his hair was wet and he was wearing nothing but a robe. Alfred gave him a good stare. I couldn't, I kept imagining his naked frame as I had seen it just minutes earlier. Rome smiled at him.

"Come over here."

"No," Germania said, "I don't think we should've invited them in. They are going to start rumours." Alfred shook his head like a madman.

"We are not! We'll be good!" he promised. "Right Arthur?" He grabbed me by the arm. I looked at his hand and then at them.

"Yeah, we will be good," I nodded. Rome clasped his hands together and leaned back in the chair.

"That's good, because we don't want people to know about Germania."

"Why not?" I asked.

"He's very ill," Rome said. Germania had turned his back to us by now, but we could see he was listening. Alfred leaned in.

"Why is he ill?"

"He suffers from cancer. Sometimes he feels good, other times not."

"Why can't people now about it?" I asked and copied Alfred as I leaned in as well. Rome looked sad. He looked out of one of his windows. It had gotten darker, and the trees looked like trolls stretching out their arms to catch each other.

"Some people don't like that men has men as lovers," he said slowly. "We lived in another village, but we weren't careful, and everyone learned about our relationship, and they started to do mean things to us."

"What do you mean, mean things?" Alfred asked. Rome looked at us. He looked like he was about to cry. I grabbed Alfred's shoulder.

"Maybe we shouldn't ask," I whispered into his ear, but then Rome started speaking.

"Sometimes people broke in and ruined our property. We tried to put new locks on the doors, because Germania really loved the house, but.." He looked down into his lap. "One day someone broke in while I wasn't at home. They found Germania in his bed.."

"What happened?" I asked, breathless. Rome didn't answer. Germania came over and slipped his arms around his body, kissed his cheek and whispered something in his ear. Rome nodded and got up.

"You better get home," he said. Alfred stumbled onto his feet.

"We won't tell anyone!" he said and his eyes shining heroically, "We… We will be extra, enormously good!" Rome chuckled and ruffled our hair.

"That's good, boys."

"Here," Germania handed each of us a can of soda, "you better get home before it gets too dark. Will you be okay?" We nodded. Rome went with us to the door and lead us down the path through the garden. Germania stayed inside. Alfred had already opened his can of soda and was gulping it down thoughtfully.

"Why isn't he in the hospital?" he asked and looked up at Rome. Rome stopped at the garden gate and let us out.

"We will rather be together than controlled by a visiting hour in the hospital," he smiled, and I felt he wasn't telling us everything, but I wasn't going to force him. He had glossy eyes, and I didn't like to see grown men cry.

"Thanks, and sorry," I said and held up my can of soda. Rome saluted.

"You can come by again - but use the front door, okay?" he laughed. Alfred smiled at me and nodded.

"We will!"

"Good. Then see you around." Rome went in again, and Alfred and I continued down the road. He was swinging his bag with the water guns, and I was watching the moon.

"I think we saw something we shouldn't have," I said, and he bit his lower lip.

"Yeah, we shouldn't tell anyone.."

"Not even Ivan," I added, and Alfred snorted.

" _Especially_ not Ivan!"

"Here." I handed Alfred my soda. He threw his can into a garbage can and took it and opened it. I slipped my hands into the pockets of my pants and kept walking, smelling the heat in the air. Suddenly Alfred snapped his fingers.

"I know what we should do," he said, "we should mix blood!"

"Ohh.." I knew what he meant. I had read about friends doing that in children's books. They always did it if they were meant to be best friends forever, or if they shared a secret. I hoped Alfred wanted to mix blood because of both, but I didn't ask him. I just smiled. "Let's do that." We sat down on a bench by the supermarket, and Alfred ripped off the tab from his can and threw it away. Left was the sharp, piece of metal where it had been ripped off. Alfred bit his teeth together and scraped his thumb across it, making a long cut in it. He held up his thumb and handed me the can. I did the same, though my cut wasn't as long as Alfred's - I hated inflicting pain on myself while he was a true machocist. We pressed out thumbs together, and Alfred cleared his throat.

"I, Alfred F. Jones, swear to keep-"

"What are you doing?" He sighed annoyed.

"Keep quiet and just repeat after me." I nodded. "I, Alfred Jones.."

"I, Arthur Kirkland.."

"..swear to always keep this event a secret.."

"..swear to always keep this event a secret.."

"..no matter what torture I- ..yeah, okay, _almost_ no matter what kinds of torture I might come across.."

"..almost no matter what kinds of torture I might come across.."

"..until I die."

"..until I die." He was about to pull away. I kept our thumbs close. "A-and I swear this friendship will never end." He stared at me. I felt dumb. Then he grinned.

"I swear on Captain America that Arthur Kirkland will always be my friend."

"I swear too," I said. We pulled apart. My finger was smeared with Alfred's blood, and I couldn't help but to giggle. Alfred got up and looked at the watch inside the supermarket.

"Should we get home and get scolded already?" he asked, and I nodded.

"Let's."


	6. 6

As summer holidays started, Alfred suggested that we should celebrate our birthdays together. His was on the 4th of July, and since mine was two weeks after his, we thought that it made sense to make a big party together. We were planning the details, but we hadn't involved our parents yet, and so of course my mom decided to ruin it all.

It was a Wednesday morning and I was sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast when she suddenly strolled in in a new dress and with a map in her hand. "We're taking a plane to Germany!" she said, and I dropped my cheese sandwich and stared at her.

"When?"

"On Friday. We'll be gone for two whole weeks, doesn't it sound wonderful?" She handed me the map with the route on it and showed me some pictures from the hotel. It looked nice, but not as nice as Alfred's plans for a chocolate-fondue. I stared at some picture from a sausage-market and crinkled my nose.

"But, we'll be gone on my birthday!" I complained. Mom sat down next to me and put on her kindest smile. One of those that parents use when they try to explain to you that they're wiser than you'll ever be.

"We'll celebrate your birthday in Munich, sweetie."

"I want to celebrate it with Alfred!"

"You can celebrate it with Alfred next year." She sighed and picked up my sandwich. Then she ran her long nails through my hair. "Don't be difficult, Arthur. Your dad is paying this trip with his hard earned money." I dropped the sandwich again and pushed my chair free of the table.

"If you only buy two tickets, he'll save his hard earned money." I was sneering at her at that point, and she got up and huffed,

"You better start to show your father some respect!" I shoved my sandwich across the table.

"I am showing him enough respect!" She pushed the sandwich back to me.

"Don't you dare shouting at me!"

"I shout if I want to!" I gave the sandwich a really harsh push, and I just wanted to see it land on the floor, but dad came in through the door at that moment, just in time to get cheese and bread and butter all over his new shirt. He stared down at the mess and then at me. I was looking back at him with wide, scared eyes. "I didn't mean to-"

"What a waste of food!" he cried and wiped the cheese off. The piece landed on the floor and mom went over to pick it up. Dad pointed at me. His face was all red. "You go to your room!"

"But dad!"

"Now!" I felt it wasn't fair. Mom had started to cry and tried to wipe dad's shirt clean. I left the kitchen to go up the stairs, but as I crossed the doorway, I heard dad sneer: "I wish I had a boy more like Alfred!" I turned around at that and kicked his leg so hard it made him cry, and I had to flee to my room not to get caught. I think he would've spanked me if I hadn't locked the door and moved my bed in front of it. He kept hitting it, demanding for me to open up, but I just sat on my bed with my fingers in my ears and loudly shouted that I couldn't hear him. All the while tears were falling from my eyes.

I knew I wasn't the perfect son, far from. My grades were so-so, though I mostly was best in class anyway. Just not when it came to sports, but who honestly expected me to beat Alfred at anything physical? I didn't really have any skills, I wasn't prettier or stronger than the other boys in class, and nothing I did ever made dad happy. But I still found it unfair that he would rather have Alfred as a son than me.

I don't know how long I sat there screaming, but at some point I realised that they had left the house, and I stopped saying anything at all for my throat was all sore. I didn't know what to do, I felt terrible, but I knew I had to break the bad news to Alfred, so I went over to see him. It was his mom that opened the door. She told me that he had left just minutes earlier to go with his dad to the ranch, and I suddenly realised that we had known each other for a year, and I still hadn't seen his horse, and somehow that made me so sad that I started crying in front of her. I just couldn't stop. Not even when she took me inside and made me a cup of tea and tried to tell me that it was okay.

"What's wrong, Arthur?" she asked me and ran her fingers through my hair, but it was much better than when my mom did it. Mom's nails always scratched down my scalp, but this lady knew how to comfort me correctly, and I just couldn't hold anything back.

"We.. We should celebrate our birthdays together," I said, "Alfred had gotten the idea. We had great plans, but now I have to go to some sausage market, and I don't want to, I don't even like sausages, and dad got really mad and chased me, and he said.." I started sobbing again. I don't think she really understood what had happened, but she certainly understood what was going on. All doors and windows had been opened due to the heat, so she had been able to hear every little sob from our house. She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me in close.

"It's okay, I get it," she said and patted my back. "It's okay, Arthur." I actually felt okay, and I ended up staying there for two hours. We watched one of her movies together, one of those Alfred always spoke about. Mom never showed me grown-up movies, so I was quite excited, and Alfred's mom carefully explained to me who the actors were and she knew all the gossip about their personal life. I drank three cups of tea and ate a plate of cookies before I told her that I had to go back. She wasn't keen on seeing me out the door, but she told me that I could come and see her whenever I felt like it.

"You can just tell me that you want to talk. I won't tell Alfred," she promised, and I gave her a big hug for that.

When I came home mom was cleaning the stairs and dad was reading the newspaper. Neither of them spoke to me, though dad did sent me a nasty look over the paper. I quickly went to my room and sat down at my desk. I didn't know how to spend the rest of the day. I had gotten so used to just hang around Alfred's place that I couldn't remember what I used to do before he moved to the village. I grabbed a piece of paper and started doodling. Slowly a unicorn found its way between the drawings, and I started to ponder if an American unicorn looks different from an English one. I would have to ask Alfred.

I was so caught up in drawing my unicorns that I hadn't noticed the sky going dark. Suddenly mom came knocking on my door. She had a plate of dinner for me, and I felt relieved that I didn't have to go eat at the same table as dad. She put the plate on my desk and sat down on my bed while I started to eat.

"We've decided that you're not coming with us to Germany," she said after a while, and I looked at her and smiled.

"That's fine. I don't want to. I can just stay with Alfred," I said, but she shook her head.

"We can't bother Alfred's family for two weeks," she said, though I had the feeling that they wouldn't mind. Mom looked very tired. She rubbed her forehead and sighed. "I've talked to your grandma, and she would like for you to come and stay with her for the weeks we're gone." I crinkled my nose and cut my potato in two.

"Why her?"

"She has a nice farm with some nice children in the area you can play with." I sighed and looked at her. She sent me a pair of begging eyes. "Please, Arthur.. I also want to relax when I finally have some days off." I crossed my arms to look cool, but I nodded slowly and looked away. In a few seconds, I actually felt sorry for her. It couldn't be easy to share a bedroom with a man like dad.

"Okay, I can go see her." She got up and ran her fingers through my hair, this time without scratching me. Then she kissed my forehead.

"Good. We'll drive you down there tomorrow." She left and I looked at my food with a pout. I didn't want to go see grandma. She was a nice lady, but a little odd. She lived all alone on her farm. She said the animals kept her company, but I think you need to know some humans as well to stay healthy. Especially when you eat most of that company of animals that you have. I could still remember how she gave me a chicken when I was little, and I gave it a name and saw it grow up. Then one day she killed it and gave it to me for dinner. She said that had been her plan all along. I think she was just mad because she found out I had given my chicken some extra feed compared to the others.

I didn't have much of a choice, though, because I did not dare to upset dad any more. I said goodbye to Alfred the next morning. He was waiting for me by the hedge as I came out. Dad was packing the car to drive me. I went over to Alfred.

"So.. Two weeks?" he smiled, but there was something forced about the way his lips curved. I shrugged and leaned against the hedge.

"Yeah.." Alfred peeled a leaf free of the hedge and fiddled with it.

"It's fine. We can have a chocolate-fondue next year," he said. I looked over at my dad, then I leaned in across the hedge.

"I don't want to go to grandma's," I told him and he looked at me with sad eyes. He wasn't smiling anymore.

I know.." He threw the leaf and stomped on it. "This sucks!" I was surprised to see him angry, and I reached over to grab him by the arm as he really started to ruin the hedge.

"Stop it, Alfred. It'll be fine. I come back." He wriggled his arm free and went inside. I looked after him, stood on my toes to see his blond hair disappear. Dad called for me.

"Arthur, it's now!" I sighed and went over to him.

"My stomach hurts," I mumbled. He got in on the driver's seat.

"That's because you eat all those sweets. Get in." I got in as he said and looked through the window to get a glimpse of Alfred as we left, but he was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

The drive was horrible. Dad was quiet all the way, making me feel nervous. I tried to read comics, but I just got a headache from it, and so I ended up sitting staring out the window. I looked at the birds flying high above, and I imagined what it would be like to be Superman, and I wondered why Batman has wings when he can't even fly, and if there'll ever be humans with wings. If I had wings I would fly to France and spit down on the people in Paris. We used to have an exchange student from France, but he always made fun of me and told me stuff in French. When I told him that I didn't know how to speak French, he looked at me as if he felt sorry for me. He told me that I would never 'get any' if I didn't learn the language of love. I wasn't sure what I would never get, but he seemed to think it was a very important issue, so I told him I would get it some way or another. That made him laugh. I rolled down the window and wondered if Alfred would help me get it - whatever it was.

It took two hours to get to grandma's house. She had a little farm outside a nearby village, but these days she talked a lot about selling the place and move into one of the bigger cities so she wouldn't have to go far to get her cigarettes. She was a smoker. Mom said smoking was bad, but still she never spoke up whenever grandma came and smoked at our house. Grandma was standing outside the house with a cigarette between her lips, and she waved as she saw me. Dad stopped the car and I jumped out and ran over to hug her.

"Oh, my, how you've grown!" she said and blinked behind her thick glasses.

"You said that at Christmas too," I reminded her, and she patted my head.

"Yes, you've definitely grown since Christmas."

"Here's his bag." Dad dropped the bag next to me and gave grandma a little nod. "I'll be off, then." She looked confused.

"Won't you come in for a cup of tea?" she asked, but dad was already on his way back into the car.

"I have to get home," he said and waved. "Thanks for helping us out!"

"Helping you out?" Grandma looked after the car. She scratched her neck and sighed. "I never know what that man is talking about."

"Neither do I." I grabbed my bag and looked at her. "Can I have tea, please?" She smiled and placed her arm around my shoulders.

"Certainly, dear. Now, tell me all about what you're doing these days." It was a question she always asked me, but I felt so happy to be away from dad that I just started chatting right away. We went to her kitchen, and I told her about the unicorns I had drawn, and she wanted for me to make her one as well which I promised to do. Then I told her about Alfred. She looked all smug and started to look for another cigarette.

"Does he have blond hair?" she asked, and I nodded stunned.

"From where do you know that?"

"Oh, grandmas know things." She sat down with a sigh and stretched her bony arms. She smiled at me around her cigarette. "He sounds like a good child." I nodded and looked down into my tea.

"He's my best friend," I said.

"Mhmm.. Does he like cake?"

"I think he loves cake - why?" She didn't answer. Instead she started to tell me the story about how Elvis became the secret love of her life. I listened politely while I looked around at her curtains with flower-patterns and her blue clogs by the door and the pictures of cats on the walls. Her home smelled of heavy perfume and old clothes. I didn't really like the smell, so I excused myself and went to the bathroom. It also smelled out there, but only of soap, and I managed to get the window opened and took in a deep breath of fresh air. I didn't want to spend to weeks out here, listening to her stories over and over again. I sat down on the bathroom floor and looked at my feet. I had some slim toes, I noticed. Alfred's were pretty big. His mom sometimes called them strawberries because when we had played, they would always swell up and become shiny red. I thought it was hilarious, but Alfred always complained. Dad had told me I wasn't allowed to ever complain. I wondered if he would like that side of Alfred as well.

I started to go through the bathrooms many shelves and drawers because I was bored. I could hear that grandma had started making us lunch, so I had plenty of time. I found some old san pads in the back of a drawer. When I was younger I once fell and hit my knee, and mom had went to town so she couldn't help me. I tried to be a big boy and go get myself some plaster to put on the wound, but I ended up using a san pad instead. Dad couldn't stop laughing. Now I knew what they were. I put them back in and opened the cupboard underneath the sink. There was some toilet paper, some shampoo and a long, green thing. I reached in and took out the green thing. It looked weird. I had seen one in my mom's closet underneath her clothes, but I never told her. I knew it was something private. But what could mom and grandma share taste in? I turned the green shaft. It was formed like a man's private parts, but it couldn't be. What would you use that for anyway? Especially as a woman. I held it to the front of my pants, experimental. Then grandma knocked on the door.

"Lunch is ready."

"Coming!" I quickly put it back in where I found it and washed my hands. It probably wasn't anything exciting anyway. Lunch was exciting now. My stomach had stopped hurting and was instead screaming for food. I opened the door and ran out to grant its wishes.

* * *

Life at grandma's was pretty quiet. I didn't want to play with the other children, mostly because they made fun of me for having big brows. Instead I spend time lying on the lawn, counting cars passing by. It wasn't until Sunday I noticed that something had changed about this place. A new pen had been put up. A horse was walking around, eating of the grass outside. I went to ask grandma about it, and she said that her neighbour was keeping the horse for someone. I then went to the neighbour to ask if I could touch it, but I wasn't allowed to since it wasn't theirs. Instead I just sat and stared at it walking around. I wondered what Alfred's horse looked like. It was probably one similar to this. A tall, black one. Really cool, but not very unicorn-like. But I couldn't imagine Alfred riding a unicorn anyway. The thought made me snicker.

Wednesday grandma baked cake. It smelled all over the house and it was wonderful, but she said that we needed some milk to go with the cake, and she handed me money to go buy some. She offered me her bike as well, but I decided to go by foot because I enjoyed strolling slowly down the road towards the village. I didn't make it far, though. Halfway down the road two boys on bikes showed up. They started to roll slowly next to me, but then one of them spat at me.

"Stop that!" I said and wiped my cheek off in my arm. The boy laughed and spat again. I started to walk a little faster, but they easily followed me.

"Aren't you the faggot from the old lady's house?"

"I am not a faggot," I mumbled. The other boy drove around me and started to drive on the other side of me, forcing me move to the side. I felt uneasy and surrounded now, kept my eyes on the road as I walked as fast as I could without running.

"You look like one," the tallest boy said, the one who had been spitting, and he turned his bike and hit my foot. I growled and pushed his bike.

"Leave me alone!" His friend pushed me from the other side.

"When you stop being dumb!"

"Faggot!" The tallest went over to push me as well, and they started pushing me from side to side. I tried to cover myself up, but couldn't really, and when I felt the most hopeless I just couldn't help but to kick the bike closest to me. It had been the guy who drove around me, and he cried as my kick forced his bike away from the road and down into the edge of the ditch following the road. First I gawked, then I started laughing manically, but the tallest guy didn't think it was all that fun. He jumped off his bike and grabbed me by the hair as he punched me in the stomach. I cried out and tried to get free while kicking him, but he had the upper-hand, and I got the most punches. Meanwhile his friend was getting up onto the road, but he had hardly dragged his bike up to the asphalt before he yelled,

"A car is coming!" All three of us looked as a red vehicle stopped a few metres from us, and Alfred's dad came out from the driver's seat, soon followed by Alfred.

"What the hell is this?" his dad roared. The boy let go of me. Alfred ran over and hugged me close.

"Al?" I stuttered. He dug his nose down into my hair, then let go as he turned around to hit the boy who had just punched me. Instead of hitting him, though, his fist made contact with the guy who was holding his bike, and he fell right back into the ditch with a yell. Alfred's father came over and took a hold of the tallest boy. He was shaking by now.

"You can't hit them, Alfred, I can get in trouble," he said, then shook the boy harshly, "Though these are as well!"

"Let go! We didn't do anything!" the boy yelled. Alfred's dad sneered.

"I am not so sure about that." He dragged him with as he went over to pick up the other boy. Alfred turned to look at me.

"Are you okay?" he asked and I just sent him a shocked looked.

"What are you doing here?"

"We came out to see my horse," he said and wiped some blood off of my lips. "What happened?"

"Well, I was getting milk…" I showed him the money I had gotten for milk. He looked at them, then at me and then he laughed. I had felt like sobbing, but it was as if his laughter loosened me up, and I couldn't stop chuckling either. Alfred's dad had gotten both boys into his car by now. He turned to look at us. "What happened?" he asked me.

"They just attacked me," I said, and I felt so pitiful. He nodded, though, believed my every word.

"I will drive these home to their parents for a talk. Will you be okay, or will you come with me?" He looked at me. I looked at Alfred, and Alfred took a hold of my hand.

"We'll go for milk!" he announced, and his father smiled.

"You do that. Be home soon, okay?" Alfred nodded. His dad got into the car, turned around and drove down the road. I blinked.

"Home soon? But you live far away from here." Alfred looked at me.

"He means home at the horse."

"Where's your horse?"

"Next to the weird lady's house." I pushed him.

"The weird lady is my grandma!"

"She is? Wow.. That's odd. Well, she's still weird." I looked down at his hand holding mine. Then I closed my fingers around his.

"Let's get the milk, alright?" He nodded.

* * *

It turned out that the ranch Alfred had spoken of was just next to my grandma's house. He had decided to come two Wednesdays in a row because it was holidays, but grandma liked him and told him that he could stay for some days if he wanted to. Of course he wanted to do that. He knew who she was, because he often rode by her home, and they had talked before. He was the reason for her baking cake and sending me to town. She had thought I would meet him in the village with his dad. I almost did.

Alfred ended up staying for the whole week, and as we went home, we had agreed not to tell my parents about it. Even grandma said she would not let our secret slip out. She seemed to like defying my dad.

Mom and dad seemed pretty lovingly when I came home. Apparently a market with sausages can do wonders. I had feared they would bring me home one of the sausages as a birthday-gift, but instead mom had talked dad into buying me a book with tales of princesses and unicorns and knights. I loved it, and it just got better as dad even said that since we didn't get around it this time, Alfred and I could have a party together next year, and he would help us making it great.

We had a rocky year. Alfred and I just got a stronger friendship, but the way that mom and dad are it's always hard to tell whether they're having a good time or not. As our thirteenth birthdays came up, he did manage to pull himself together and make us a great party together with Alfred's mom. We had finally entered the world of being a teenager, and dad secretly handed me a porn magazine, telling me that I should 'look and learn'. I gave it to Alfred who thought it was really cool. It somehow disappointed me a little. I had wanted for him to be disgusted like I was, but the way he seemed all excited about it made me fake an excitement as well. I had reached a point where I had stopped following whatever Ivan said, and instead did a lot of what Alfred said, and with the porn magazine, Alfred came up with a new idea.

"We should go to one of the bigger cities. They have real porn shops!" he said. I told him he wouldn't dare, and we didn't speak more about it that summer. But one week before school started, he showed up at my doorstep with a multitrip ticket and a naughty smile. "We're doing it," he said, and all I could do was to tag along.

* * *


	7. 7

Alfred and I were both teens, but still his body changed faster than mine, and it made me feel a bit embarrassed about myself and at the same time I was in awe over Alfred. I had started to grow some hair on my chest, but they were bright hairs and it was as if I was the only one noticing them. Alfred's hair was also quite light in colour, but he had more of it, and not only on his chest, but also around his privates. At PE I couldn't help but to peek at him. There were other guys with as little hair as mine, and some with way more than Alfred, but somehow their hair was just hair, while Alfred's hair made him look really handsome. I asked dad how I could grow more hair since he was a true bear when taking off his shirt. If he had shaved his chest he could've made several wigs out of it. One could think that my question would've made him laugh and make fun of me, but instead he seemed to be really proud that I wanted to know about stuff from him. One day when mom wasn't home, he and I sat down in the living room with tea and biscuits for a manly talk.

"Sometimes it seems like you're far behind everyone else," he told me, and I nodded, because I was always far behind Alfred. "But in the end, you'll be just as them or better. When I grew up, I had no hair at all!" I gasped.

"I don't believe that!"

"I didn't!" he said and wrinkled his brows in honesty. "I thought I was a wimp. But later, when I entered high school, things started to change, and suddenly hair grew everywhere on me." I nipped on a biscuit and smiled a bit.

"Do you think I will become hairy too?" I asked him, and he poured me yet a cup of tea and laughed.

"Of course you will."

Though dad really wanted to talk puberty with me, I wasn't keen on sharing everything with him. Like my worries about becoming a dwarf. Alfred was growing rapidly like a beanpole. I appeared to be the same. Mom did get me a new pair of pants and told me I had to stop growing or she would become poor, but whenever I stood close to Alfred, I was still smaller than him. At the time he had grown to be a head taller than me. I didn't appreciate that at all.

I tried to look for signs of maturity that I had and he didn't, but I could only find two, and those were the worst of them; pimples and a sore chest. I had pimples under my ears and on my right cheek and down my back. I wanted smooth skin like Alfred, and I kept trying to press out the white liquid inside of them, but instead ended up with bleeding holes all over. Mom bought all kinds of creams to help me get my skin back to basic, but I was very impatient and felt very ugly whenever I noticed a new bump on my forehead.

Then there was my chest. At one point I thought I was developing breasts. My nipples felt extremely sore, and I sat in front of the mirror in the bathroom, crying and telling myself that I didn't want to become a woman. It made me so distressed that I skipped class and went to see the school medical officer. She was a nice lady, and I felt more comfortable with telling her than telling my dad. She immediately calmed me down, assured me that I wasn't going to get breasts but that my glands were growing, and the soreness would disappear soon. It was such a relief that I started crying at her office, and she made an agreement with my teacher to let me go home early to rest. Later, when Alfred also got all sore, he came panicked to me and said that he thought he had hurt himself during one of his regular fights on the football field. I played it cool and told him the story of glands and dripping nipples, and though he didn't seem all happy about it, he accepted it and spent the night with me, listening to music and rubbing his chest as if obsessed.

In the end, however, Alfred was more successful in growing than I was, and naturally I started listening to what he said. Not because he was smart, because I still had to help him with his homework, and clearly I was the one with the brain in our friendship. But somehow I felt that me being clever was less important than Alfred looking good, and therefore I accepted following him wherever he went. So that day, when he showed up with the multitrip ticket for us to go look at porn downtown, I thought: "Oh well, he knows what to do." And I followed him. Like always.

* * *

It was a Monday, and my parents were at work. So was his, and all four of them had trusted that we would be good boys and just stay and play in Alfred's shack. I hated to think about doing the wrong thing, but at the same time it gave me a rush, and I put on my shoes and grabbed my brown coat though the sun was melting the asphalt already. Alfred was in a Superman t-shirt and shorts, I was wearing black pants and a white shirt. I stepped out into the sun and immediately regretted wearing anything black.

"Where did you get that from?" I asked him and gestured towards the ticket. He hid it in his pocket and grinned.

"I bought it with money from my birthday. Look!" He slipped a bank note out of his pocket and showed it off to me. A twenty. I bit my lower lip.

"Are you going to use that?" I asked.

"Yep, on porn." I slapped his shoulder.

"You can't hide porn from your mom!" I said, and he grabbed my arm and pulled me in close.

"But you can hide it," he whispered. "After all, your dad gave you that magazine. He wouldn't worry if he found anything in your room!" I looked at him with my lips stretched to a straight line on my face. Sadly, he was right, but I wasn't keen on bringing porn into my room. If dad ever found it, he would think I was turning into a proper man, but somehow I didn't feel like having him thinking that. I couldn't let Alfred down, though.

"We'll see," I said without promising anything. We started to walk down through the garden and down the street towards the stop. Alfred seemed overly excited. "Where are we going, anyway?" I asked.

"Downtown," he said and I rolled my eyes.

"I know that, but where downtown."

"Uhh…" Alfred scratched the back of his neck and shrugged. I raised my brows at him.

"You don't know?"

"Let's just get going, we'll see where we end up." I grabbed his sleeve and held him back. He turned and looked at me annoyed. "What?"

"I am not just going anywhere," I told him, "we could end up in danger!" Alfred laughed and freed his arm form my grab.

"That's nonsense," he said and kept walking, and I had to run to keep up with him. All the training he did with his dad had given him strong legs, and he could walk three miles in the time it took me to walk just one. "We'll just take a quick trip in, look at the shops and then go back before our parents get home. Easy." I didn't think it sounded all that easy, but I didn't have time to complain. Alfred had timed it all perfectly, and we had hardly arrived at the stop before the bus came sneaking around the corner. I grabbed onto Alfred's sleeve.

"He'll question us," I said. "The driver."

"I have a story ready," Alfred answered, and I blinked surprised.

"You? You thought up a story yourself?" Alfred didn't answer. I shuffled my feet in worry. "It better be good!" The red bus stopped in front of us and the doors opened. Alfred stepped up the stairs and showed the ticket to the driver. He leaned in to look at it.

"Where do you have that from?" he asked.

"I bought it," Alfred said. The man raised his brows.

"You mean your dad bought it. That won't get you anywhere." I gawked.

"Alfred, did you lie?" I asked him. His face was getting red, but he kept showing the driver the ticket.

"I want to go downtown with Arthur," he said and grabbed my sleeve as he pulled me in closer. The driver shortly looked at me. He was a big man in a big uniform, and he looked very important. I slapped the back of Alfred's head.

"Why did you steal your dad's ticket? You said you bought it!" Alfred grimaced at the hit and slapped my shoulder back.

"Else you wouldn't have followed me!"

"Followed you? I am not following you anywhere on a stolen ticket!"

"Alright boys." We both looked at the driver. He was watching our argument with a humoured smile. "I am in a good mood, I like daredevils," he smiled and blinked at us. "Go take a seat and make sure to get a valid ticket to get back home on, alright?" Alfred nodded.

"Alright!" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The driver smirked at me and gestured with his hand.

"Move so I can close the door." I was still standing on the steps, and for a second I thought about running out of the bus and all the way home, but Alfred quickly snatched my collar and dragged me up so the driver could close the doors. He then let go of me and joyfully went to sit in the back. I still stared at the driver.

"This is trouble," I told him, and he whistled lightly.

"I think your friend is more trouble. Better keep an eye on him." He winked at me, and I felt my heart beat harshly with anger. I was defeated, though. The bus started moving, and I slowly made my way to the back and to Alfred. As I sat down next to him, I threw a look at him and wondered why everyone was so easily charmed by him. He could get away with anything, even stealing his dad's ticket. But then I started to wonder; why was _I_ so easily charmed? I didn't like that question one bit, but it kept haunting me, and I curled my hands into two, tight fists which I rested in my lap as the bus started moving down streets I had never walked, and crossed corners I had never seen, and the landscape outside changed to something I had no idea existed. Alfred was pressing his nose to the window.

"Why are you so excited?" I finally asked him, and he looked at me as if I was dumb.

"Porn," he said, and I shook my head.

"That's not it. I bet you've seen porn in America. I bet you've seen lots of things in America that we don't have here." I hardly ever mentioned his old life in America to him, because he never spoke about it, and he always seemed to get a bit saddened when reminded of all he had left. But now he lit up and smiled at me.

"Porn? No way!" he said and shook his head. "I mean, it's all in the medias, and at the same time, you never see anything." I wrinkled my brows. He smiled wryly as if he couldn't explain though he wanted to. "It was like, everyone would speak about it, but no one had really seen anything or knew anything. At least that's how it was at my school. We'd all seen the girls in the commercials in skirts and stuff, and heard the jokes in the movies. But it was all just fun and teasing." I bit my lower lip.

"I am not sure I understand." Alfred shrugged.

"Neither am I. Mom always said that I would learn in time. And dad said he would tell me later. But he still hasn't told me."

"My dad tells me too much," I mumbled. Alfred pricked up his ears.

"How's that? What has he told you?"

"Well.." I swung my legs and didn't know if I really wanted to tell Alfred about boys and girls, but he was looking at me so interested, and it felt heart-warming that he wanted to know something from _me_. I cleared my throat. "He has told me about being turned on by girls. Like, how it feels and what happens and what to do about it. And that it's okay and-"

"Like when your balls itch?" Alfred asked, and I snorted.

"I guess."

"Hmm.." He looked out the window. We had moved from village to town, but still not one of the big ones. A few more people had gotten on the bus. An elderly lady decided to climb her way from the door all the way to the back to sit in front of us. Alfred seemed very disturbed by her large, purple hat. I started to mess around with my jacket in my lap.

"So, when will we get off?" I finally asked him, because it had already taken too long, and I didn't want to be too far from home. Alfred looked out the window at the town we were driving through.

"We might want to take yet a bus."

"You can't be sure that another driver will accept the ticket."

"Hmm.." Alfred seemed to ponder about that. The bus was turning around a corner. I looked at the lady's hat.

"I think we're going back again now," I said, "it's been half an hour."

"Then let's get off at next stop," Alfred said and pushed my shoulder to get out. I stepped up and almost kicked the lady's bag which she had placed on the floor. She looked at me with insulted eyes. I stared back at her with a sorry look.

"I didn't mean to.." I said and grabbed at the seat to keep myself standing. She grabbed her bag and placed it on the seat next to her.

"No manners."

"Excuse me?" She didn't answer me. I huffed. Alfred pushed the button.

"Never mind her," he said. The bus stopped and the driver leaned out over his seat and waved at us. Alfred waved back, but I pushed him out of the bus because I didn't like anything about the trip so far, and I felt I should let him know in one way or another. He stumbled down the stairs and outside and almost hit a cyclist before he got onto the pavement. I followed him. The doors shut behind us and we watched as the vehicle continued down the street. Then I looked around.

The town was bigger than the one we lived in, but still not huge. It wasn't like we were staring at metres of asphalt and houses of concrete and roads with five lanes. There just seemed to be livelier and more places to go. Not just a supermarket to visit once in a while, but several supermarkets to choose from, and people here walked around in clothes that seemed more modern than ours. Did a few miles really do this to people? I stepped out of the way as a man with a dog jogged by. I looked after him - a tall guy in a sweaty shirt, ass slowly wriggling as he took a step, his legs trembling from overworking. I found that I couldn't look away, and I just ate up every detail of him until Alfred grabbed my shoulder.

"I think we should go that way," he said and pointed down a street close by. I looked over and nodded. A lot of people seemed to be going there, and I guessed it was the main street in the town.

"Okay," I said. I knew we weren't going to find porn in the middle of town, but I didn't tell Alfred that, because I didn't _want_ to find porn anyway. Actually, his obliviousness could end up being my luck, and I smiled as I happily strolled alongside with him to the pedestrian crossing and then continued down the busy street.

There was something in me that just loved to walk around with Alfred like this. I had started to notice as a year passed by and I grew more attached to him. Of course, to me it was just a really tight friendship, but at the same time I knew there was something more. I wasn't sure what it was, but I longed to have a word to put on those feelings that sometimes rushed through my body and made my balls itch as Alfred had described it so nicely. And not just my balls, my heart would pound so funnily - as if I was loosing my breath without having done anything at all. It made me believe it was because I was in a bad shape, but even after I started to eat a bit healthier and go for a few runs around the neighbourhood, I still had that fluttering feeling inside of me when Alfred said and did something. It didn't even have to be anything special or anything involving me, he could just be playing one of his games, flipping through a comic or eating with our classmates in the cafeteria, and still it made my heart go nuts. Sometimes I wondered if he ever felt the same way, but deep inside I knew that he didn't. He had no ideas of what emotions were or how to handle them, and all the girls who fell in love with him had chosen the wrong guy. Nice on the outside, oblivious on the inside.

I didn't mind, though. I was pretty glad that he didn't have a girlfriend, because girlfriends took up time. I had seen the older guys hanging around their mates until some long-legged, randy girl came along and wrested one of them free of their group. It was like watching animals; she would guide him away from his territory, take over him fully until she got tired of him, and he would then have to crawl back to his old pack. It was humiliating for the guy staggering back crestfallen, and I wouldn't want that to happen to Alfred. But at the same time I knew I would feel even sorrier for myself in the time I would have to sit all alone in my room and count the holes in my ceiling.

I peeked at Alfred as we passed a group of girls sitting on a bench, discussing something - in their own words - _totally amazing_. At first he acted like he didn't care, but as we had passed them, he shortly threw a look over his shoulder, almost hit a lamp standard before stumbling his way on. I rolled my eyes.

"If you want to look at girls, why don't you just do it?" I sighed, and his cheeks turned bright red.

"I don't."

"You just did!"

"Did not!"

"Did so!" I smacked his shoulder.

"Ouch." He rubbed it, but it hadn't hurt him at all. It was all for show and in hopes of making me feel bad. I didn't. I slapped him again.

"You're the one wanting porn, of course you would look at girls. You even made me follow you to see those girls when we were children!" A shy smile took over his lips, and he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Well," he said and crinkled his nose teasingly, "I might be a ladies' man! - and stop slapping me." I smiled and kept hitting his back harshly, making him go more quickly to get rid of my hand.

"I'll stop slapping when you stop denying you like girls."

"Mhmm…" Alfred walked. Slap. Alfred kept walking. Slap. Alfred stumbled. Slap. "Okay, I like girls and I looked at them!" he finally howled, and I put my hands into the pockets of my trousers with a smug smile.

"There you go." Alfred kicked a stone down the street.

"So.. How about you?" I blinked.

"About me?"

"How do you like girls.." I stared at him. Alfred quickly held up his hands as if to defend himself.

"I know you're not a sissy," he said, both of us finally knowing the meaning of that word, "but.. What kind of girls do you like?"

"Hmm.." I kicked a stone as well and started to walk more slowly. I hadn't really thought about it. I just wasn't into the whole being boy- and girlfriends business. It seemed too complicated and too grown-up, and I'd much rather just avoid it all. But I wanted to seem cool as well, and make Alfred feel like I had something in me that we shared, so I tried to remember all my dad had ever told me about the perfect girls and used that to make up a fascination for women. "I like.. Uh… boobs," I said, and Alfred laughed.

"Well, we all do. But what hair colour?" I smiled wryly. Dad always said that blonde girls were the best, because they were dumb and cheap and easy to get to do stuff. But I didn't like to think of myself as a man who would go for an easy girl. If I _had_ to have a girlfriend, she would have to be smart.

"Red hair," I finally decided, because a redhead just passed us by. "They're… feisty, I've heard."

"Eye colour?"

"Brown."

"Age?"

"84." Alfred gawked. I looked at him annoyed. "What did you expect me to say? I can't make up a girl I want. I don't care. I'll know when I know." He sighed and kicked a stone again.

"Sorry, I was just asking!" He went quiet, so I didn't say anything either. I just looked at my feet as we kept walking down the street, Alfred being the only one noticing the shops we were passing. I didn't know why all his asking made me feel so annoyed. I guess most guys would've loved to share their dreams and fantasies with someone like Alfred - he never judged, he only listened and then said what he thought would be nice or sexy or cool. But I didn't feel like talking about girls, and I didn't feel like buying porn, and I felt so unfair, because Alfred just wanted to do all this with _me_ , because _I_ was his friend, and therefore _I_ had been chosen to share this experience with him. I bumped my shoulder to his to get his attention.

"Hey, sorry, okay?" I mumbled, and that was all it took to make Alfred smile as if the sun had just broken through on a rainy day, and he grabbed my wrist and gave it a little tug. A sign of approval.

We both started to look around. As I expected, no shops showed naked women in the windows or had a sign telling the world that you can go and jerk off in the back. Everything was like at home, just in a larger scale. Alfred stopped outside a bookshop and looked at me.

"Do you think they have it in there?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"Go ask them." He went to the door and opened it, then looked back at me.

"Aren't you coming?" I shook my head, but he kept looking at me, so at last I followed him inside.

The bookshop was a larger one with in floors and with books everywhere. It didn't smell old like the library at our school, just clean and fresh and it had that weird scent of paper and ink. A little bell rang as we entered, and a girl showed up behind the counter, smiling at us.

"May I help you?" I looked at Alfred, and he stepped over to the counter, making his chest look as huge as possible in his little shirt. I folded my arms and raised my brows rather humoured.

"We are looking for a certain kind of books," he said, and the girl nodded and leaned against the counter.

"What kind?"

"It involves women."

"Ooh." She straightened up and nodded. "Books on feminism?" I laughed at the irony. Alfred snorted ashamed.

"No, uhm.. Naked women." Now the girl's smile fell, and she looked rather suspicious.

"Naked women? Art?" he asked and sounded like she hoped he would just say yes. It was painful to watch how her eyes slowly narrowed and Alfred's cheeks darkened, so I stepped in to save the day.

"Yes, art. We look for a book about how women has been portrayed sexually throughout time." Alfred stared at me, then he smiled slowly as he realised I had just saved his ass. The women didn't seem to believe me.

"We don't have that specific kind of books. I will need a title to order anything home. But I can show you our section with books on art?"

"Never mind, we will go and get the title for you," I said and grabbed Alfred's arm as I dragged him out of the store. "Sorry for taking up your time!" I stumbled outside with him and smacked his shoulder for what felt like the millionth time that day. "Can't you ever behave?" I whispered annoyed, then noticed that the woman was still looking at us through the window. I smiled silly and started to quickly walk down the street, Alfred following me after having sent her a cheeky smile. "You can't ask for porn in a bookstore!"

"Then where do you get it?" he asked and caught up with me. I slowed down. I didn't know. Was it even legal to sell porn? Well, dad had gotten me a magazine, but maybe you could only know the secrets about women when you turned dad's age. But I doubted Alfred could wait until his forties.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I guess we will just have to keep trying? ..but quickly if we don't want to be caught running around here far from home. Alfred nodded. Then our search began.

* * *

By the time the timers on the clock had reached three, we still hadn't found anything. We both sat exhausted on a bench at the local market and watched how people were packing down their stalls. Alfred had bought us a bag of apples from an old man, and we were making our way through it while glaring out into the air.

"That was disappointing," Alfred said and kicked the air. I didn't say anything. I wasn't sure how I felt. On one hand I never planned to find anything, but on the other the whole day seemed wasted if we didn't make it home with something other than a bag of apple cores. I especially felt sorry for Alfred, so I stumbled onto my feet and turned to look at him. He was looking really lazy as he sat there and took in rays of sunlight which licked across his face. He was more tanned than ever, looked almost golden, but I knew some of that colour would disappear when we entered winter again. He raised his brows and gnawed down on his apple as he noticed me staring.

"What?"

"Let's try one last time," I said. "One last time, then we go catch the bus and go home." He sighed, he didn't seem to even bother anymore, so I grabbed the bag and threw it into the dustbin. "We can try one of the smaller streets, the ones we haven't been on yet."

"Mhmm.." Alfred ran his fingers through his hair, then clapped his stomach. "And if we don't find anything?"

"We won't find anything just sitting here," I said, and he seemed to get my logic and got up. He gnawed one last time on his apple, then threw it to the ground. "Al." He picked it up and threw it in the dustbin.

"Okay, which street?" he asked and swung his arms. I looked around. Across of the space with the stalls, a smaller street was going around the library and down towards the stop from which we came. I pointed to it.

"That one." We crossed the market and started to walk down the street. It was a bit smaller compared to the others we had walked that day, and shops with odd garments - probably fashion - took up the space. The closer we came to the end of the street, the more discouraged Alfred seemed to get, and I started to wonder if I really had to humiliate myself and ask dad for yet a magazine just to make him happy, but then a newsagent's shop showed up. I was the first one to notice and stopped outside the window. Bottles of wine was showed alongside with cigarettes, and some newspapers were spread out behind them. Alfred kept walking, so I went to grab the handle of the door and yelled at him.

"Let's look here!" He looked over his shoulder, then came running back. I opened the door and walked in.

Inside it smelled heavily of tobacco and ink. Somehow, though, it was more pleasant than the bookshop we had been in earlier the same day. The place wasn't very wide, but huge in length, and it seemed to just go on with shelves of magazines and papers, and I turned to Alfred with a smile. "I think we can find something here."

"Oh?" He walked past me and shyly looked at the old man behind the counter. The white-haired guy hardly noticed us, he just kept smoking his pipe and following some horserace they showed on telly. As Alfred disappeared in between the shelves, I followed him.

There was a lot with cars and fashion and how to cook a nice dinner. I recognized some of the mags from my mom's own collection - she liked those pages with gossip. I smiled back to a photo of the queen, then started to search for Alfred. I found him in the very back, holding a magazine with a carefulness I had never seen him act out before. As I saw the front, I realised why.

"You found it!" I whined, then lowered my voice with a blush. He gave me a dumb grin, showing off a picture of two naked ladies making out.

"I found lesbian stuff."

"Oh wow…" I stared. Then I looked away in shame. It was almost too private for me, not thrilling as Alfred seemed to find it. I took a step back and glared at the many shelves of naked people. There was something for everyone. Big boobs, old ladies, huge cocks in small caverns, maids, housewives, teens, hairy, shaved. There was kinks I had never heard of, and pictures which would haunt me in sleep. There was a huge catalogue called 'dildo guide', and I almost screamed when I saw this so-called dildo on front. That was the exact same thing both grandma and mom had at home! I bit my hand and shook my head to forget or make myself believe that it hadn't been what I thought it was. But the girl on the front clearly showed what such thing is used for, and I felt like puking. So women really did this with themselves? What torture!

I tried to make myself think of something else. I looked at Alfred. He was all satisfied with looking at the lesbian stuff, so I took a few steps around him to do at the same. But just next to the lesbian magazines, something different was, and I was standing right in front of it.

The little green sign said 'gay', and underneath it magazines with men started. But not just men showing off, no, men showing off together with other men. I felt my cheeks burn, and my heart started to beat at a rapid speed as I glared at those muscular bodies, those skinny arms, those hairless bums, those big cocks. Was this for real? Mom always told me that men and women can make love, and dad said that sometimes two women does it to excite men, but he had never said anything about men doing it with other men. I took in a deep breath and peeked at Alfred. He hadn't noticed what I was looking at. He was grinning and mumbling something about melons. I slowly licked my upper lip and reached over to grab one of the magazines while keeping an eye on Al. As he shortly turned his back to me to take a closer look, I ripped the mag open and glared directly at two men sucking each other off. One of them had dark, smooth skin, looked like delicious chocolate, and the other had white, hairless skin, looking like snow. I read the front title. Interracial. Oh… So that was out there too?

I quickly flicked through the pages. They did all sorts of stuff, stuff I didn't even know would feel good to a male body, and as I stood there and curled my toes in shock, I realised that all this was making my blood boil. Why was I reacting so strongly to something so odd? I didn't have time to think about it before Alfred turned back, and I quickly put the mag down again. He also put his up and looked at where I was looking.

"Gay?" he said, reading the sign, then he wrinkled his brows. "Man, that's so gross!" I felt my heart stop beating, and I looked at him with eyes wide open.

"A-ah?"

"Gilbert says gays has AIDS. All of them. They fuck each other's asshole, and then they die." The statement shocked me. Alfred grabbed one of the magazines and opened it. As he flickered through the pages, he looked extremely disturbed. He stopped at a picture and showed it to me. "Eew!"

The picture was a full-page one of a guy on his knees, licking the ass of another guy. I parted my lips to say something, but my body reacted in a strongly, wanting way, and I couldn't even get a word to cross my lips. Alfred took that as a sign and put the magazine away. "I know, too disgusting for words. This is good." He grabbed a lesbian magazine. Something with girls with big boobs. I shook my head to free myself of the shock and the feeling running around my stomach so pleasantly.

What Alfred had just said made me feel _betrayed_. I didn't know about being gay, but somehow I didn't believe him when he said that they fucked and died. If they did that, they wouldn't keep doing it and take pictures of it, would they? I knew from Toris' horrible classes on sex that women could also get an carry sexual diseases, and they could die from them as well.

I got lost in my thoughts, and my eyes must've gone glossy and distant, because I came back to reality from Alfred shaking me. "Come on, let's buy this," he said and handed me the magazine. I tiredly took it and looked at the girl. Then at the price. Then I gasped.

"It costs 15?" I cried. Al shrugged.

"I guess they decide the price based on the boob-size," he said, and at the time it strangely made sense, so I just nodded and handed it back to him.

"You buy it." He blushed.

"Me?"

"Yeah, you wanted porn in the first place." That made him shut up, and with an evil glare he marched back to the counter, ready to prove himself. The old man looked away from the telly as Alfred put the mag up.

"You want that?" the guy asked and raised his brows. I had moved to stand behind Alfred, and I could see his ears go bright red.

"Yes!" he said. "Yes, I want that."

"I can't sell you that," the man said and leaned in over the table top to explain kindly. "You're too young."

"No I am not!"

"Yes you are." Alfred was shaking a bit now, in shame clearly, and then suddenly he ripped the sixteen he had left after buying us apples, smacked them onto the counter, grabbed the magazine and ran out of the shop. He grabbed my sleeve on the way and forced me with him. The man yelled and started to struggle to get away from his counter and after us, but Alfred was not going to slow down and let him catch us. He let go of me as we were outside on the street, then started leaping down towards the stop. I could only follow him, my heart pounding just as strongly as it had when we were in the shop.

"Alfred!" I yelled, "Wait!" He shook his head. "Alfred!" He turned around a corner. I followed him breathless. "Al-" I stopped next to him, fell on my knees and gasped for air. Alfred looked down the street. The man had long given up and was returning to his shop. A dirty grin fell on Alfred's face.

"We did it!" he said smugly. I glared up at him with evil eyes.

"You made me a thief!"

"I did not! I paid him, even too much!"

"But you ran!"

"Who cares, I have lesbian porn!" He showed me the magazine as if that would make it all better. I stumbled back onto both feet and punched his stomach. He whined and bended over a little. "What the-?"

"Idiot!" I cried and stomped on his foot. "Now you don't have money to buy us tickets! We can't get home!" Alfred blinked, then he slowly straightened up.

"…oh, right." I fell down to sit on the bench at the stop and hit my face behind my hands. Alfred slowly said down next to me, then he hesitatingly put his arm around my shoulders.

I realised it was all a mess. Alfred had made me a thief, and now he had made me homeless. I would never be able to go back and see my parents, and my eyes started to get wet from the realisation. I was shaking and sobbing, and I could clearly feel how Alfred started to feel all guilty. He put his mag down onto the ground and held me in both arms. "I am sorry, Arthur!" he said, first harshly as if he didn't mean it, but then more soft. "I am… I… I should've thought about this.. It's all my fault!" I leaned in to him.

"Yes it is," I sobbed. He started to stroke my hair and look around. Then he suddenly got up. "Wait here," he said and pressed the magazine to my chest. I looked confused, tears trickling down my cheeks. He smiled at me and then kissed my forehead. "I will figure something out!" He ran across the street and into the post office on the other side. I blinked and wiped my cheeks off in my shirt.

"What?" I mumbled. Of course I got no answer. I leaned back against the backrest of the bench and sadly looked at the big-breasted girl. "Why does Al like you?" I asked her. She just kept that same, big smile on. I wondered why touching her own boobs could make her smile like that.

The men in the gay magazines had seemed more real to me. They just had their fun. I swallowed. Was I weird for thinking that? I wondered if I was going mad.

I sat for fifteen minutes and wondered about what kind of institutions my parents would put me in for thinking gays were interesting. Then Alfred returned back to me. I looked at him. He appeared embarrassed. "What did you do?" I asked, and he sat down next to me, took the magazine and hid it under his shirt.

"I called mom."

"What?" He shrugged and slipped his arm around my shoulders again. I moved in closer.

"I remember her number. I called her and told her where we are and how we got here."

"..also for what?" He shook his head and laughed.

"Are you nuts? No.. I just said I needed a little adventure. And that I forced you to follow me." I raised my brows.

"That's believable."

"It is. She got so mad it hurt. But she's coming for us now. She just got off from work anyway." I nodded and looked down. Actually, it was kind of sweet for Alfred to take all the blame. He could easily had said I had wanted to go just as much as him, but he brought me in less trouble this way. Dad would still be angry, and mom would tell me to go to bed without having dinner, but it was still less of a punishment than what I else could get. I leaned my head to Alfred's shoulder and snickered a bit.

"I bet your dad punishes you with press-ups." Alfred sighed.

"Aww, man, I am afraid you're right." He then clapped his stomach. I could hear the paper under his shirt. He smiled at me. "Oh well, it will be worth it." I laughed and shook my head.

"Unbelievable.."

Alfred's mom showed up forty minutes later. In that time we didn't really speak, we just sat there and enjoyed having had an adventure of our own. Or, I think Alfred was thinking about his lesbian porn, because he kept scratching his groin. And I was thinking that his armpit smelled of sweat and that he had more hair on his legs than me. But still. All part of our adventure.

She wasn't as mad as I had expected her to be - not at first at least. She made us enter the car and brought me home where it turned out that neither mom nor dad had come home yet. I spent an hour waiting for them in the living room, looking out of the window as Alfred was doing press-ups in the garden, his dad keeping an eye on him. As my parents did return an hour later, Alfred's mom told them nothing, and I certainly did not either.

"Did you have a good day?" mom asked me and kissed my ear. I nodded with a smile.

"Had fun with Alfred," I said, receiving a grunt of approval from dad.

* * *

One week later we had PE. I was sitting putting on my socks after having taken a shower as Alfred came over to me. He was all wet and had his towel wrapped around his hips as a cover up.

"Hey, do you want to borrow the magazine today?" he asked me. I shook my head.

"It's okay, just keep it for another week." He didn't complain about that and wasn't about to push his luck by asking me again. I straightened up and zipped up my pants. Just then Alfred grabbed around my chin and turned my head up. He leaned a bit down and looked at me with serious eyes. The baby-blue seemed almost dark and husky, and I felt my heart stop beating and sweat start to form in my armpits as if I hadn't just washed it all off. He was so close I could feel his hot breath, and I swallowed roughly. His thumb moved over my chin.

"You're getting a beard." I blinked.

"What?" He let go of my chin and smiled kindly.

"You have down on your upper-lip. You're growing a beard. That's cool." I felt my cheeks go red, and I ran a finger across my upper-lip. It was true. I had gotten a bit hairy. Not much, but still.

"T-thanks," I stuttered, and he smiled and turned his back to me as he picked up his shirt that had fallen to the floor. As he turned around again, his towel had slipped a bit down and I could see light hair from his navel disappearing down towards his privates. My heart immediately hurt, and I sat down and felt it starting to beat unsteadily, my toes curl and my eyes unable to look away from those wonderful hair.

That was when I realised it.

I didn't just find gay men fascinating.

I _was_ one.


	8. 8

Realising that I was gay didn't mean that I fully comprehended the meaning of my own realisation. I just poked a label on the feelings that I had, but I didn't accept myself to be gay in the way that I found the world viewed gays. In the magazines, you had to have a huge cock and a muscular chest to be gay. I had neither, and no matter how many times I pulled out the ruler and angled it differently when I measured myself, it seemed like my dick stayed the same. Alfred's, however, kept growing. It seemed as if he was the one most likely to become gay - faith had just grabbed the wrong boy off the playground and twisted his mind to think differently. I just wondered why I had to be that boy, and I quickly realised that I didn't want to be him. Being gay was gross, and not only Alfred had said that, but everyone went around saying it. Gays were turned on by all men in the changing room, gays raped straight men, and they liked girly stuff. Like dressing up and cutting hair. Rumours were that the local hairdresser was gay. He was pretty feminine, always swaying his hips and wearing pink, ironed shirts. But the women in town liked him because he cut their hair beautifully. I came to think that if you're good at something, maybe being gay doesn't matter all that much to people. Too bad I wasn't good at anything.

Alfred was good at sports. He was always very proud whenever he played a good game of soccer or scored in basketball, and I often stayed to watch him play because it made him happy. Whenever I was tired or had a lot of homework to do and didn't come to watch him, he would complain about it for a week. "I thought we were friends," he would say, since he knew how that sentence forced me to apologize to him and promise that I would make it to his next game. Because it was so painful to hear him question our friendship, even when he said it as a joke, I just started to come by, even if I had to bring a can of tea and a thick scarf to get through the two hours on the bench. I didn't mind it, to be honest. I would bring a book to read, but as time passed by, I found it hard to concentrate on the written words, and instead my eyes slipped over the top of the book to follow Alfred. I would watch how his muscles worked underneath the thin strip, how the sweat started to drip down his back and form a wet spot, and how his hair got all messy and his cheeks red. My toes would bend, and something inside my chest would start to grow like a balloon being blown up, and it wouldn't stop hurting until I got home and had time to just lie down and relax.

I started to wonder if Alfred had noticed anything. I didn't think I had changed, but since I realised what kind of feelings that were rummaging inside of me, I became much more careful around him. I was afraid to switch something on that would make me an actual gay man, so I tried to be a common boy. I struggled to be what my dad had always told me men should be like - powerful, selfish and careless. But I failed miserably at all three of them.

I wasn't powerful. If Alfred told me to do something, we would argue, but I would often end up doing it anyway.

I wasn't selfish either. I thought about other's feelings, and I would do anything to please a good friend of mine. Even when I knew I was being taken advantage of. Alfred often proved himself to be my hero and stood up and told the exploiters no on my behalf. I still remember how Ivan kept borrowing stuff from me and always failed to return it, and how I started to become nervous about losing all my belongings. Then one day, when he came over to me at lunch break and asked if he could borrow my new jacket, Alfred put his arm around me and tugged me in behind him.

"No you can't," he said, and Ivan had raised his brows.

"It's not you I am asking, Alfred."

"But you're asking _my friend_ ," he'd said and put his arms akimbo. "You can't borrow anymore stuff from Arthur. What do you need his jacket for anyway? You're too fat to fit into it!" Then they had fought, but after that incident Ivan stopped borrowing anything from me at all, and I even got some of my old stuff back.

The only thing left for me to be was careless. But was I careless? Not at all. Rather I was extremely careful. I thought things through, I planned my weeks the best I could, and I never searched for taking part in dangerous events. I was sometimes pulled into them by Alfred, surely, but I didn't go around creating them like he did. He had more than once provoked Gilbert into a fist-fight, though he knew he didn't match the older boy's strength. He would lose every battle, but still the girls would admire him. I can't count on two hands how many girls fell for Alfred after having seen him fight bravely. Even though he hardly ever won, they thought he was very manly and didn't find it hard to pick between his raw strength and my gentleman attitude.

Though Alfred had many offers, he didn't get a girlfriend. The summer when we both turned 14, he proudly showed me a love-letter some girl from the grade above had given him together with his birthday card. We were both sitting in his old shack. I had insisted on us painting the walls if we were to spend any more time there, and Alfred had bought the paint but let me do the work. When he came in through the door with the pink letter in his hand, I was busy with the brush covered in white paint.

"Man, Emma loves me, I am telling you, she loves me!" he said and kicked the door shut. I put the brush down shortly to look over at him. He grinned at me and held up the letter for me to see. "She gave me this."

"What is that?"

"A love-letter!"

"Hmm.." I dipped the brush in the paint and kept painting the wall. Though I wasn't looking at Alfred, his burning excitement was clear, and I took in a deep breath and asked: "Who is Emma? The blond one?"

"Mhmm, the one with curls and big, green eyes." He shuffled over to sit next to me. He was staring at me. I had to put down the paintbrush and look at him again. "Want me to read it?" he asked and I shrugged and wiped my hands off in the towel.

"Sure." He cleared his throat and sat up against the dry part of the wall and started to read out loud from the pink page:

"Dear Alfred. I hope you have a very great birthday. I am sorry to hear that you're only celebrating-"

"She misspelled that," I noted as I looked over his shoulder, "she wrote it with an 's'."

"-celebrating your birthday with Arthur," Alfred kept on reading. "You see, I had bought you a gift, but it's in the envelope. I hope you'll like it. Just like I like you a lot. If you like me too, please wear it so I'll know. Love from, Emma." I wrinkled by brows.

"What gift?" Alfred turned the envelope upside down, and out fell a colourful bracelet with small stones in it. I picked it up. And snickered. "Wow, where did she find this? In her jewel box?"

"I think she ripped it off the cover of a girl's magazine," Alfred said, and I looked at him with raised brows. He took the bracelet from me and smiled cheekily. "I was out shopping with mom when I saw it in a store. I bet she reads that stuff."

"What… great love." Alfred turned the bracelet between his fingers. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. "You're not going to wear it, are you?" He shook his head.

"I don't like her in that way," he said, but he kept playing with the gift. It annoyed me a bit, and I wasn't sure why. I grabbed the paintbrush again.

"What will you do with it?"

"I dunno," he shrugged, "keep it?"

"What for?"

"It would be rude to just throw it away, wouldn't it?" I bit the inner of my cheek. I supposed he was right, but I didn't like the thought of him keeping a gift from a girl. It just seemed too weird. Letters he normally just burned, so why would he keep this girly present? I peeked at him from the corners of my eyes. He had loosened a stone with his nails and was now letting it roll around in the palm of his hand.

"You could give it back to her," I suggested. He shrugged again. As he said no more, I continued painting the wall in silence, and as I reached him and he had to move so I could paint behind him, he hugged the bracelet in his hand and then turned to the wall with his posters on, grabbed a needle out of Captain America and put the bracelet up with it. I blinked at him.

"I will keep it there, just until I know what to do with it," he explained and smiled wryly at me. I nodded, but I didn't return his smile. He probably thought I was jealous at him, and maybe I was, because I couldn't recognize the rush of feelings that went through me when I caught a glimpse on the bracelet. It was as if this girl had decided to invade an important part of my life, and not only by liking Alfred, but also by taking over our shack.

When Alfred went to the bathroom, I just sat and stared at the bracelet glittering in the sun. I used to like rainbows because they reminded me of fairytales, but the way the trinket was glittering in all colours suddenly made me feel like puking. I crawled over to it and took a closer look. The small stones were made out of plastic. "So cheap," I mumbled and thought about the rather expensive soccer-shirt I had gotten him. How come he would rather hang up a bracelet than my shirt? I poked the trinket and snorted as it wriggled from side to side. "Am I getting jealous of a piece of plastic?" I asked myself loudly. Of course I wasn't, but I _was_ getting jealous of Emma.

Alfred wasn't going to throw away the bracelet, and he wasn't going to burn her letter. I tried to tell myself that it didn't matter, but every time Alfred sent her a long look through the canteen or spoke with her during breaks, I felt awfully betrayed. Afterwards I couldn't help but to give him the cold shoulder, but Alfred was too thick-headed to get my discreet hint, and the only one noticing was Kiku. He surprised me by following me home one day while Alfred stayed at school to wait for Emma. He was going to visit her and see her room, so I was left to walk home alone.

"Don't let it bother you," was the first thing he said when he caught up with me. I looked at him shortly, then hit my hands away in the pockets of my jacket and looked up at the sky.

"I am not bothered by anything," I said and kicked a stone. Alfred would've kicked it too. Kiku just followed it with his eyes. "I am not jealous. He can have any girl he wants."

"I didn't think you were jealous," Kiku said, and a small smile came to his lips. I glared at him.

"Then what do you think?" The road parted in two. I was walking right, and Kiku's home was to the left, so we stopped in front of the old oak at the corner and looked at each other. It had been long since I spoke with him like a friend, and I suddenly realised how much older he'd gotten. I came to ponder - what kind of friends did Kiku have these days? Who meant something to him? What did he like to do? He tightened the straps on his schoolbag and raised his brows a little.

"You'll still be friends," he said, and I could feel a pout coming to my lips. My eyes narrowed, and I took in a deep breath and looked away.

"I know that."

"Hmm.." He had this know-it-all glimpse in his eyes, and it bothered me, because it was as if he knew more about the situation that I did. He tightened the straps even more. It was as if he was testing how far up his back he could get the bag. Right not it was poking the nape of his neck. "Well, I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah…" He turned around and started to walk home. I watched him for a while before heading home as well. It was Friday, and it was going to be an odd evening without Alfred. I ate dinner with my parents and was forced to do the dishes with dad while mom watched some girl's show on telly. I stood with the tea towel and tried to dry off the brown edge on the cups. Dad was breaking the plates in his eagerness to get done.

"How come Alfred didn't come over tonight?" he asked, and I felt my heart starting to beat faster at the question. No matter what excuse I made, he would blame me for not seeing his desired son, so I just shrugged and decided to tell the truth.

"He's got a girlfriend now."

"A girlfriend!" Dad chirped the word excited as had he never heard anything like it. "He's a handsome young man, of course he has a girlfriend." I just nodded. Dad grabbed around the wash tub and poured the dirty water out into the sink. I held by breath and slowly folded the towel, knowing that something nasty was going to come up. I was right. After a moment of ponder, dad turned to me and asked: "How come you don't have a girlfriend, Arthur?" I bit my lower lip.

"I don't like the girls at school, I guess." I tried to avoid further questions and put the towel away before heading for the door. Dad cleared his throat behind me.

"Just don't turn into a cocksucker!" I fled up the stairs. From the living room mom yelled at dad for saying the word 'cock'. They started to argue. I went into my room and locked the door in hopes of also locking out their brawl. Then I crept in underneath my duvet and closed my eyes.

I wasn't a cocksucker. You have to be gay to be a cocksucker, and only my feelings were gay. Not me. I told myself that it was just a phase. In a few weeks I wouldn't be bothered by Alfred hanging around Emma, and instead I would go look for a girlfriend myself. There had to be one out there for me, that was my logic.

I must've fallen asleep, because when I woke up, my room was completely dark and rain was falling in through the open window. I was still in my clothes, and my pants had gnawed a red circle around my hips, and with a heavy sigh I pushed the duvet off of me and got up to unzip them and get to bed. Then something hit the floor. I blinked and narrowed my eyes to see what had fallen down, but everything seemed to be at its right place. I shook my head and kicked off the pants, but as I was about to put them aside, something fell down again. I switched the light on and glared at the five rocks on my carpet. In disbelief I went over and picked one of them up. It was heavy and wet, but as I was about to straighten up to see from where it had come, another rock flew in through the window and hit my shoulder. "Ouch!" I growled annoyed and hurled the stone in my hand out of the window. Someone down at the lawn howled. I quickly leapt over and looked out.

"What the hell?" Alfred was looking up at me, rubbing his forehead. "You hit me!"

"So did you! Did you throw all these rocks?" I asked, and as he nodded, I leaned down and picked them all up and threw them out at him. He whined and turned his back to me to hide, and only a single stone smashed against his leg. He turned around again and pouted.

"What did you do that for?"

"Why did you throw rocks at me?"

"I tried to get in contact with you!"

"Ever heard of a front door?"

"Why are you being so arrogant?" I sucked in my lower lip and snorted. I was about to tell him to shut up and go home, because I was in a bad mood already, but then I felt a pity take over me, and I leaned more out and looked towards the front door. All light downstairs had been switched off, so my parents had went to sleep.

"I'll run down and unlock the door, okay?" I said, and Alfred nodded thankfully and headed for the entrance. I closed the window and kicked my socks off before tiptoeing downstairs to the door. I opened it and let Alfred in. He was soaking wet and looked to be in a bad mood as well. He took of his jacket and I grabbed it and put it on the radiator so it could dry. While he was taking off his shoes, I watched him with my arms crossed. "I don't want to hear about Emma-"

"Oh, don't mention her name!" I raised my brows surprised. Alfred's voice was heavy with annoyance, and as he had placed his shoes aside, he led the way back upstairs and into my room. He noticed I was only wearing underwear and a shirt, so as soon as we were settled on my bed, he started to undo his pants as well.

"Did something happen?" I asked him, though it was painfully obvious that that was probably the case. He nodded and wriggled the jeans off his legs.

"I met up with her after class, Emma you know. And all the way home she just talked about herself and some rabbit she owns. She call's it Spot, because it's gotten a black spot on its forehead. How dumb is that?" I didn't answer, but I snickered and leaned back in bed.

"Did you get to see it?

"See it!" Alfred gasped in air. "I saw it and touched it and hugged it and fed it. And then she wanted to sit and discuss 'us'."

"'Us'?" I repeated. "How 'us'?"

"Like, that she wanted for us to spend more time together, and that I should start calling her my girlfriend, and then she could call me her boyfriend and all that. I didn't know what to say. I just sat there and nodded. It's so… grown-up, man." Alfred grabbed my duvet. I moved so he could crawl in underneath it, and as he gestured for me to do the same, I did. I switched off the light, and we lied in the dark. I was facing Alfred while he was on his back, looking up into the ceiling. "And she wants to ride my horse, and I told her that it's my horse, and only you can ride it, but then she got all: "Oh, you spend too much time with Arthur anyway", just like that!" I lowered my gaze and felt my cheeks slowly heat up.

"S-so… what did you say?"

"I told her that you're my best friend, and that I am not going to spend less time with you. Then she got mad, and then she got us cake, and then she wanted us to kiss."

"Kiss?" I gasped, and then felt stupid for sounding so surprised. All couples kiss I guess, but my embarrassment was short. Alfred also turned to face me, and he nodded in agreement to my shock.

"Yeah, I know, gross, right? I don't want to kiss her." I smiled a bit and pushed his shoulder.

"You're such a child."

"Well, I am still not kissing her." He sounded so determined that it made my heart skip a beat. I took in a shaking breath to prepare myself for the question I had to ask.

"So, are you still together?" Alfred looked me in the eyes and seemed to hesitate. My heart started to beat faster and faster, and the blood rushed through my veins at such speed that I could hardly hear what he answered. I could only see his lips moved. "W-what?" I stuttered.

"We're not a couple anymore," he repeated, and I felt an enormous relieve go through my body.

"Oh good," I blurted, then added, "I-I mean, she wasn't right for you."

"I know what you meant," Alfred said, and he slipped an arm around my body. As I looked at him, he was smiling widely. "I will rather spend all my time with you than with a dumb girl." I snickered silly and patted his chest, not knowing what else to do.

"I appreciate that."

"Mhmm.." Alfred moved to lie with his head on my pillow as well. I tried to make room for him, but still our faces were very close, and I could feel his warm breath slip over my lips every time he exhaled. I wondered if he could feel mine too. It made me feel kind of snug to think. "You know what?" Alfred whispered and peeled off his glasses. He put them on the floor before turning back to me.

"What?"

"She doesn't even like sports."

"Oh, blasphemy," I teased. Alfred grinned.

"And she didn't know anything about the US."

"There's anything worth knowing about the US?"

"Stop it," Alfred grinned and I laughed as well. "At least you listen to me. She didn't. She didn't even want to come to my games."

"I come to all of your games."

"Yeah.. You're a good friend." I licked my lips and opened my eyes a bit. Alfred had his closed, and his breathing had gotten slower as he was falling asleep. His fingers dug into my shirt, and he threw a leg over mine. "I am falling down," he mumbled as an explanation. My bed was a single bed, but since I was lying with my back almost pressed to the wall, I wasn't quite sure how he could be falling down. He pressed himself in close to me anyway, and as he jerked our bodies together, I could feel a clear bulge in his underwear poking my hip. My eyes widened and I snapped in air. Had he gotten hard speaking about Emma? No, that couldn't be it. He couldn't even stand the thought of kissing her. But then why..? I looked down at him, but he was hiding away his face at my neck, and I could only see his blonde hair tickling my nose.

"Uhm, Alfred?" I whispered, but I wasn't sure what I wanted to say. 'Your cock is poking my leg' seemed like such a clumsy sentence.

"Can't we just sleep?" he mumbled, and I was about to whine that no, we couldn't, not as long as he was grinding _that_ against me. But in the end I just nodded.

"Okay, sleep well.."

"Yeah.." Alfred moved a little closer, and I just stared out into my room while he fell asleep and his erection seemed to calm down and disappear. I must've been awake for at least an hour, because I simply couldn't wrap my mind around the whole situation. It was bizarre, but really pleasing, and I felt safe again with Alfred by my side, snoring away and completely without a girlfriend now. This had to be the happiest I had felt in months, and as my body started to demand sleep as well, I could blissfully wrap my arms around Alfred and fall asleep smiling.

The very next morning Alfred peeled down the bracelet from the wall and threw it out. I stole one of my dad's lighters, and together we went to the lake behind the school and burned the letter to ash before throwing it into the water. We ceremoniously held hands and watched it all wash away.

"Girls suck," Alfred said, and I nodded and repeated,

"Girls suck."

We were both in 7th grade, and neither of us really expected any more hardships in the future. Not while living in a village like ours. I don't think neither of us could've anticipated the change we were soon to witness.


	9. 9

The local school was pretty small, and it only reached 7th grade. Of course we were still obligated to take the last years somewhere else, but the choice of school was our own, and mom had spent the last two years receiving information about the different schools in the area to choose one that would fit me perfectly. "It has to be somewhere expensive," she often said, because she didn't really have any faith in the schools run by the government. She'd looked up a lot of pretty, but pricey, schools, and they were all situated far away from home, so I would have quite a travel every day. The thought of getting up early and coming home late all week just to seem important didn't attract me at all, and I was devastated at the thought of not being close to Alfred. "You'll still be neighbours," mom tried to cheer me up, but if I was spending all my time studying miles away anyway, what difference would that make?

Luckily, dad stepped in. Ever since he saw Alfred for the first time, he'd considered him the perfect example of a real man, and he was just as devastated as me at the thought of him rarely coming around. After all I was far from being the son he had hoped for, so it was fairly important to him that I stayed friends with Alfred. I think he hoped that Alfred's manliness would infect me somehow and make my arms grow big and fill my chest with hair. I knew such thing would never happen, but as long as he supported our friendship, I wasn't going to complain, and certainly not when he stopped mom's crazy ideas. "Alfred is enrolled in a common, free school close by," he said to mom, "and if that's good enough for him, then it's good enough for our son!"

Soon I was enrolled in the same school as Alfred, and I was one big smile when I told him the news. He was sitting in his room drinking soda and reading comics when I stumbled up the stairs, shoved his door open and fell down right on top of him.

"We'll be going to the same school!" I chirped. Alfred groaned and pushed his comics away before rolling to his back to get me off of him. I hit the floor next to him, rolled to lie on my side and grinned cheekily. He ran his fingers through his hair as he looked at me perplexed.

"Weren't you signed up for some luxurious shack?" he asked, and I rolled my eyes.

"School, Alfred, not shack. And yeah, but dad made mom change her mind, so I'll be going to the same place as you." He blinked. I slowly sat up and pouted. "I thought you would be more excited," I said and was about to complain even more as he suddenly tackled me to the floor and pressed a big, wet kiss to my forehead.

"Man, that _is_ amazing!" he cried, and I laughed from underneath his heavy body and patted his back.

"Took you long enough!"

"Man, that is _really_ amazing!" he emphasized and kissed my forehead again, and I felt my cheeks get uncomfortably red, so instead of just patting his back I started hitting it.

"I got that already. Get off of me, I can't breathe!"

"Liar!" he chuckled and pressed his hands to my shoulders to keep me trapped to the floor. He was hovering above me with a know-it-all smirk on his lips. I felt my cheeks darken even more. "If you couldn't breathe, you wouldn't be able to speak either."

"Uh…" It wasn't as much his logic as his face that made me speechless. The way he was looking at me made it seem like the blue in his eyes were burning, and the soft smile on his lips appeared much deeper than his normal, quick grins at our friends. I often forgot how much more mature Alfred had gotten since we first became friends, and when I noticed it, it was often in a rage of jealousy because I still was a scrawny, little teen. But now it was as if I realised that he wasn't just a man to be, he was a man to want, and for a few seconds I allowed myself to understand why all the girls at school had wanted him so much that they would send him letters wet with tears and steal his used toothbrush at school trips. It occurred to me like a bolt out of the blue.

Anyone who thinks that Alfred's strength was connected to his muscles only should have seen the way he looked at me that day. He had a power in his eyes that demanded all attention in me, and I felt a shiver go through my body which heated up, and Alfred must have felt the same way, because his cheeks got pink like candyfloss, and his breath shortly hitched. We were just staring at each other, both waiting for the other to react to the situation, and somehow I knew that I had to decide what was going to happen next. I wasn't sure why it was that way, but I knew that this was not something Alfred could control, and I had to do what would be best for the two of us.

I had to be grown-up.

So I whispered,

"I still can't breathe," and Alfred rolled away from me and jumped to his feet as if he had seen a ghost, and soon I was standing as well, looking down at my feet all embarrassed. From the corners of my eyes I could see that Alfred was inspecting his nails, probably not out of interest, but rather because both of us were too shy to actually look at each other.

A minute of silence passed by. Finally I bowed down and picked up the forgotten comic to flicker through its pages. Alfred hid his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looked out the window.

"We probably won't get into the same class," he said, and I nodded and paused at a picture of Superman.

"Probably not.." Alfred scratched the back of his neck, and he sighed in a frustrated tone and kicked the air. "It'll be weird."

"It'll suck, man," he growled, and I couldn't hold back a little smile that stretched my lips upwards. I put the comic down on his desk and nodded.

"Yes, it will. But it will be okay, right? We'll still be friends," I said, and he looked me in the eyes and agreed,

"Of course we will."

* * *

Things are often easier said than done. We did end up in different classes, and because our timetables didn't match, I had to go there alone on the very first day. Though the school wasn't all that far away it was still a 30 minute ride by bus. It was located in one of the bigger towns, and as I got off the bus and looked at the huge building for the first time, I felt a fear run down my spine.

The school in the village had been neat and cosy. Because only local children went there, we had all respected the building and treated it as if it was our home. Here it seemed like no one respected anything. Graffiti covered the front of the school, trash had been piled around the dustbins and someone had broken a window. A very thick, brown piece of duck tape had been placed across the hole to keep out the cold. I stared at it in disbelief. Here I was in a new, blue sweater, black trousers and shining shoes when I should be wearing gloves of plastic and boots of steel. I certainly wasn't going to touch anything - if it all was as dirty as it looked, I could probably get ill from just breathing the air in the classrooms.

While I was standing there pondering about my future life - or the lack of a such - someone had sneaked up behind me, and the person suddenly made himself known by placing a hand on my shoulder. I gasped in surprise and spun around just to stare into a grinning face.

"Relax, Mr. Uptight. I forgot my murder weapon at home." I stumbled away from the guy and stared at him. He was a bit taller than me, had deep brown eyes and dimples when he smiled. A tall, blue Mohawk decorated his else shaved head, down his ears he had several silver rings, and when he straightened up I noticed his torn, black garments. He looked as if he had been through a blender and in desperation of making it to school on time had secured the many holes with safety pins instead of changing clothes. I stared down at his ice-blue boots in awe. "Be careful, your eyeballs can pop out."

"Sorry.." I shyly looked up at him again. I probably should feel afraid, but I didn't. Still the palms of my hands had gotten sweaty. The guy stepped in close to me again as if we were best friends.

"Newbie, right?" I nodded. He pursed his lips. "Cool, where are you heading to?"

"Room 23," I answered automatically, the number imprinted in my mind as I was afraid of getting lost at the new place. The guy pointed to a smaller building next to the main one.

"That's in there on the first floor," he said. I nodded again and looked in the direction he was pointing.

"Thank you." I just wanted to get going, but the guy kept talking to me.

"You're here early, aren't you? I bet the old Mrs Blue hasn't found her false teeth yet." I swallowed harshly and played with a lock of my hair.

"W-well, I wanted to make sure that I didn't get lost on my way here."

"Good boy!" He laughed with a raw throat. I could smell that he was a smoker whenever he exhaled. I crinkled my nose in disgust.

"Is that why you're here already too?" I asked him, just to seem friendly, and he laughed even harder than before as if I had told the joke of the century.

"Me? No, baby, no!" He shook his head and placed a hand over his heart. "I am here to assure myself a good seat in the back of class. Far away from the teacher's ninja-like eyes." He pursed his lips. I wrinkled my brows. I found his logic to be neither amusing nor clever. I cleared my throat.

"I have to get to class," I said. He saluted and slammed his heels together.

"That's fine, I'll see you around, Mr. Uptight."

"My name's Arthur," I corrected him and went towards the building he had directed me to.

"Cool, I am Evan!" he yelled, and just as I had entered and the door slammed shut, he added, "Nice ass!" With a dark blush covering my face I skipped up the stairs to the first floor and easily found the room I was to be in. Not even the teacher had shown up yet, so I quietly sat down and looked at the blackboard with tired eyes. Slowly my gaze slipped around the room. Everything in there was old. The teacher's desk wobbled whenever I exhaled, several of the curtains were frayed, and when I looked down at the table I was sitting at, I could follow years of intense studying from many students throughout time in the form of engraved messages and pictures in the wood. Someone had written 'Alex Van Gray was here', but someone had carefully rewritten it to 'Alex Van Gay was queer'. I decided I didn't like the table and moved to the next one in row, but that had an even worse picture of a woman's vagina covering it. I decided that I would rather have a queer table than one that could get pregnant, so I quickly moved back, just seconds before someone else entered the classroom. I had feared a second Evan, but instead a thin boy with brown hair and green eyes entered. He was dressed appropriately in a pair of dark jeans, a white shirt and a black vest. As soon as our gazes met, he smiled kindly and walked towards me, but instead of sitting down next to me, he sat down at a table at the row behind me. I blinked and turned around in my seat to look at him.

"Hey, I am Arthur," I said and held my hand forward. He seemed all surprised, but he shook hands with me and smiled,

"My name is Toris." I gestured to the seat next to me.

"Wouldn't you like to sit next to me?" I asked, and once again he seemed all surprised, and very humbly he moved his bag and sat down next to me.

"Thank you," he said, and I just shrugged.

"So, where are you from?" I asked, and he looked me in the eyes and answered,

"That's a very long story."

Toris was a strange guy with a kind, but odd personality. He came from Lithuania, but he had moved to England with his parents recently. His father was English, so he spoke the language fluently, but still everything was very new to him, and he respected all dearly because he didn't know what else to do. He seemed oppressed, and as time passed he started to tell me about a childhood filled with bullying, and I had a hard time understanding how anyone could ever bully such a nice person as him.

Though it was only the first day, I already felt as if I had made a good friend, and surely Toris turned out to be a guy that would stay in my life for many years to come. Although we didn't know that as we exchanged addresses and phone numbers before going home, I think we both already then planned on at least staying close throughout school.

My first day had been successful, and it turned out that Alfred's had as well. "There's a football-team!" was the first thing he said when we saw each other again. "And I am joining it!"

"That's nice," I said and smiled a bit. We were sitting outside in my front yard, enjoying the sun and plucking blades of grass just to throw them away again. "There's a guy in my class, Toris. I think he'll be a good person to do papers with."

"Cool, then I can finally get a break," Alfred said, and I threw a handful of grass at him.

"Be nice. If it wasn't for me, your grades would be horrible." He laughed and pushed my shoulder.

"I know, I am just kidding, alright? There's a cool person in my class too. She's partly American even! Her name is, uhh.." I glared at him.

"Oh, so she's _so cool_ that you can't even remember her name?"

"Rachel, that was it! Her name is Rachel."

"Oh." I piled my handfuls of grass. "Do you think you'll be good friends?"

"Maybe," he said. But it quickly became clear that they would become very good friends.

* * *

Alfred entered the football-team, and soon he had a group of girls following him everywhere. It didn't bother me, because it had been the same way at our former school. What did bother me, though, was that he quickly became very close friends with Rachel, and she seemed to be the only girl he talked to outside of school. At some point they seemed so close that I asked him if they were dating, but he said they weren't, and I couldn't really ask him to break up their friendship since I talked a lot to Toris as well and met up with him at weekends. Had Alfred told me not to be around Toris, I wouldn't have listened to him, so I couldn't really tell him not to hang around Rachel. The situations were the same. But it just didn't feel as if they were. When Alfred was with other guys, I wasn't bothered, and I didn't even flinch when he was with other girls. But something about Rachel ticked me off, and soon I came to fear that her resemblance to Emma was what made me worried. In personality they were very different, but in their way of occupying a lot of Alfred's time they were like twins. Rachel would arrange for them to go and do something at the same days that I would normally be with Alfred, and though he sometimes chose to be with me, he chose to be with her _instead_ of me just as often. And it bothered me to no end.

Evan bothered me a lot as well. He wasn't the only one at school who was dressed differently, actually there was a whole bunch of odd teens in all sorts of garments. I ran into guys wearing eyeliner, girls with no hair on their head, tongue-rings and tattoos on every part of the body. Evan hung out with these people, and for some reason he seemed determined on having me hanging out with them as well. They would often sit on the benches outside of school and smoke when I was on my way to catch the bus, and if Evan was among them, he would get up and follow me while begging me to come and join them. I didn't quite get it, because I was far from everything they were, and I wouldn't fit into their group at all. I had tried to tell Alfred about my problems with being followed by this odd bunch, but he just told me to go and befriend them. "You can't have too many friends," he always said. When looking at him and Rachel, though, I did believe that one could be too friendly.

A Monday in March, more than half a year after I had started at this new school, Evan was once again following me to the bus stop, and I had just had enough. The following weekend I was supposed to go see Alfred ride his horse, but he had asked me if it was okay if Rachel came along too, and I had foolishly said that of course that was okay. I had quickly regretted my answer, and this same Monday morning I had lied and told him that I couldn't go because someone from my mom's side of the family would come to visit, and she wanted for me to meet them. Instead of seeming disappointed, he'd appeared thrilled about being alone with Rachel, and it wasn't hard for me to figure out why. Maybe they didn't say it out loud, but it was clear to everyone what they had turned into; boyfriend and girlfriend.

I was 14 at the time, and that day it was raining, and I was looking up at the wet sky while I walked and in my thoughts I asked it why a 14-year old has to suffer this much this early in life. Instead of giving me an answer it sent me Evan who came running up to me from behind and started to follow me down the street.

"We're having a party this weekend," he said and threw his wet cigarette to the ground, "you really should come." I stopped up and turned to look at him with tired eyes.

"Evan, you've been asking me to come to every party you've held through the last 6 months."

"Yeah?"

"And what have I answered so far?"

"No?"

"Exactly. So why do you keep bothering me?" Evan bit the inner of his cheek and looked up at the sky as well. His Mohawk had just been coloured red, but the cheap hair dye was being washed out by the rain and was now running down his cheeks. It looked as if he was bleeding from the head.

"I think you would really enjoy coming along," he said. I rolled my eyes.

"I am nothing like you, why would I enjoy such thing?"

"You are like us," he said, sounding very assured, and he looked at me with honest eyes. "You just haven't realised."

"How am I like you?" I finally asked him, now on the edge of giving up. He scratched the back of his neck.

"Well, you're not like all of us-"

"There you go!" I interrupted him and started to walk again. He followed me.

"- but you're like some of us. You're like me!" I spun around on my heels.

"How am I like you?" I asked insulted and pointed to his Mohawk. "I don't have such one!" I said, and then I pointed to his clothes. "And I don't wear such clothes!" I continued, and then I gestured wildly to his rings and his boots and his tattoo of a snake down his right arm. "And I don't have any of that! So tell me, Evan, how am I like you?" I furiously spat the question at him. His normally secure attitude seemed to fall, and he stepped back and looked down at the asphalt. I took in a sharp breath, not really expecting him to answer, but then he looked me in the eyes, and he smiled a bit, almost looking cute as he answered,

"We're both gay, man.."

I ran away. I simply turned around and leapt down the street, past the bus stop and down some random suburban street. For once Evan didn't follow me but just left me alone. I ran so fast that my raincoat blew off and my clothes started to get wet, but I didn't care. I hugged my schoolbag closely and turned around yet a corner until I found myself lost in front of an old house with a new carport. I didn't know what to do, so slowly I walked to sit sheltered by the roof of the carport, and I looked out at the wet street and wondered why my life was such a stupid, dumb one. Hadn't I deserved better?

After a couple of minutes, though, my thoughts seemed to not blame my life for being dumb, but blame myself. I wouldn't react so strongly to a sentence like that if it wasn't because he was actually right, and all my old worries about being different and being gay and being _gross_ came up again. I remembered the time back when I was all alone and worried about turning Alfred gay, and I had no one to talk to about my feelings. But if Evan was really telling the truth, then what he had been trying to say all along was that I was welcome to come and talk with them. But why should they be any better than the rest of the school?

"Because the rest of the school doesn't know about being different," I whispered, because the answer occurred to me right away. I blinked the tears away from my eyes and took in a deep breath. "They don't know anything at all," I whispered and got up, and it was as if I suddenly understood a whole lot more than before, though I couldn't explain what it was that I now was aware of. I just felt more whole.

I started to walk back to the bus stop. I found my raincoat lying crumbled and wet up against a bush, and I picked it up and folded it together before putting it in my back. I had gotten far away from the school now, but I managed to find a bus stop. The trip home took almost an hour, and mom greeted me all nervously and asked me if something horrible had happened since I had taken so long. I told her a lie about doing a paper at the school's library, but of course she believed good, nice Arthur. Good, nice, sweet, kind Arthur. I went to my room and lied down on my bed as mom started to prepare dinner. Good , nice, sweet, kind Arthur. I didn't want to be him. I wasn't him. I was frustrated, annoyed Arthur. No, I was frustrated, annoyed, gay Arthur.

"I'm gay," I mumbled, but the word didn't seem quite right, and I turned to lie on my back and looked at the ceiling as I had often done. "Gay," I repeated. "I am gay."

\- And maybe I was, but Alfred was indeed very straight. As if faith had decided to show her miserable face, Alfred chose the very next day to tell me that he and Rachel had decided to try dating. "Just to try it," he said sternly as if he was to calm me down. It annoyed me. Why did he have to say it that way? Was it because he thought I was jealous? Did he think I wanted her to be my girlfriend? Did he think I wanted him to be my boyfriend? Did he think I would turn into a madman with a gun and start to stalk them if it got serious?

All the silly thoughts piled up in my head, but it was good, because the more annoyed I got, the less I noticed my heart slowly breaking underneath the loss of Alfred. Of course we were still friends, and even if I _was_ gay, I wasn't gay _for him,_ right?

Right?

No matter what it hurt.

Evan followed me to the bus stop to apologize. "I am sorry about yesterday," he said, but I stopped him before he got further in his apology.

"I want to go to that party next weekend," I said, and his whole face brightened up in a big, surprised smile.

"Cool! Come on," he said and grabbed my hand, "we have to colour your hair rainbow!" And it didn't make sense, but nothing seemed to make sense in my life, and though deep inside I knew that I was just reacting to some raging teenage hormones, I chose to follow them as if they were logical. If I had nothing to hold on to, then why hold on to anything at all?

I followed Evan home. I got green hair. My parents freaked out. The life of Arthur the Punk had started, and I planned on enjoying it fully.


	10. 10

The day I came home with green hair, mom hit dad with a rolled up magazine. "It's all your fault!" she yelled in a moment of fury, but then she slumped down on a chair at the kitchen table and started crying. My dad was no abuser, but he normally didn't put up with mom putting her hands on him. That day, though, he neither said nor did anything when she smacked his cheek red. Instead he just looked at me with such sad eyes that I felt my throat knot up and go completely dry. Mom kept on shedding tears. "If we had enrolled him in a good private school, this would never have happened!" she loudly stated, and dad knew that she was right, so he didn't say a word. He sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders as she leaned in close to him for comfort. I was standing in the doorway with my jacket zipped open and my green hair dripping rain down onto the floor. Evan had used more dye than necessary, and the colour had wrapped itself thickly around every single strand of hair on my head, almost making them glow. All the way home I had made up stories about how I came to get my hair dyed, because instantly I had known that my parents would react strongly to the change.

However, standing in front of my broken down mom, I couldn't make my lips part and tell the many apologizes which were lying ready on the tip of my tongue, waiting for a chance to be let out. It was as if an unknown power in me strangled every need in me for explaining, and as I slowly swallowed the spit that had gathered at the back of my mouth, I felt every single excuse go down my throat with it.

"Arthur," dad said, and I looked at him. His face was tired. "Why this?" I knew that he felt betrayed. He had defied mom's decision about choosing an expensive school for me to go to, and now I had left him to look dumb because I had proved to him that mom had been right. A private school would've kept me all nice and clean and without changes anywhere but in my brain. Even a lot of the free schools would've done the same, but because he stubbornly had trusted Alfred's parents' decision, he was now left with a son he didn't want.

"It's just hair," I mumbled and received a loud sob from mom. Dad ran his fingers through his hair and looked down at the table top. He was in troubles. He had to calm mom down, because he couldn't question his own decision now. To scold me would be like admitting that he was wrong, and in his mind he was never wrong. So after a moment of hesitation, he clapped mom's shoulder and got up.

"It's just hair," he repeated and went over to me. I doubled up, afraid that he would hit me, but instead he gently helped me out of my jacket and shook it for rain. He put it on a hanger and looked back at me. "Let's go to the living room, Arthur," he said, and I swallowed harshly and nodded. I picked up my school bag and looked one last time at mom. She had her back turned to me as she was trying to rub her wet cheeks dry. She looked pathetic, and I felt a rush of guilt go down my throat, and I had to hurry out of the kitchen to avoid doing anything stupid.

Dad was waiting for me in the sofa. He had opened a bottle of red wine, and normally I wasn't allowed to drink, but this time he had got out two glasses and filled them both. He offered one of them to me, and I took it and sat down in the chair opposite of him. He started sipping his glass with a grave look on his face, and I started shaking in worry for what he was going to say, and I bumped my front-teeth against the glass when I tried to take a sip. My wet pants had gotten uncomfortably stuck to my legs, and in the heated up room they slowly dried and started to make loud noises whenever I moved an inch in the seat. So I tried to sit completely still, just listening to my hitching breath and my racing heart. Dad still didn't say a word, so I took in a deep breath.

"I just got an A today." Dad put his glass down. I looked at it. "It was in English. Third one in a row."

"Arthur," he said, but his breath was heavy, and I interrupted him before he even got started.

"I am a good student," I said, and suddenly I felt tears building up in my eyes, and I desperately wiped my face off in my arm. "I-I am. Even the teacher in PE says that, and you know how horrible I am at sports. But-"

"Arthur," dad said again, and this time I stayed silent. He leaned back in the sofa and shook his head. "I know you're a good student. You've always done well in school. I am not worried about your grades. I am worried about you." His words came as a surprise to me, and I almost knocked over my glass as I put it down on the table.

"There's nothing wrong with me," I said.

"If nothing was wrong, you wouldn't suddenly have green hair."

"It's just hair.." I poked at my glass as he sighed again. I felt a strange warmth spread inside my veins. Dad never seemed to worry about me. Whenever we talked, it was about school or being a real man. Not about being Arthur and doing well in life, and for a few seconds I allowed myself to believe that he was truly interested in my wellbeing. But then-

"Is it because Alfred has got a girlfriend?" I glared at him. He leaned in over the table to look me straight in the eyes. Mine were shaking, his were all calm. "It's okay, Arthur. Alfred's popular, of course he will have a lot of girlfriends all the time. You'll surely get one too at some point." He reached out and tugged at my hair. "But not while looking like this." I slapped his hand away and rushed to my feet. The swift movement made the glasses knock over, and wine spilled everywhere. Dad cried out when he saw the red liquid drop to the white carpet, and he jumped to his feet. "Are you nuts, boy?" he yelled, and I harshly kicked the table aside.

"How dare you say you're worried about me? You're not worried about me!" I yelled, and he pointed to the dripping wine.

"Clean that up!"

"You're worried about Alfred!" He drew in a sharp breath and grabbed me by the collar. I tried to shove him away, but he was far stronger than me and got me lifted an inch off the ground.

"Don't speak like that to me!" he said, then dropped me back down as he couldn't keep holding my wriggling body still. I kicked his leg, and he stumbled away from me.

"Don't put your hands on me!"

"What's going on?" Mom showed up in the doorway. I looked at her, but she wasn't looking at me. She was staring at the carpet with her eyes wide open. I sobbed,

"You can all just.. just.. You are so dumb!" and I pushed her aside and stomped up the stairs. Dad yelled that I should come down and clean up and apologize, but I locked the door to my room before he even made it to the stairs. I sat down at my bed, grabbed my pillow and smacked it to my face to hold back any sounds, but to my surprise I didn't start to cry. Instead I just inhaled the dusty air from the pillowcase and quickly calmed down. Slowly I let it slip to my stomach, and I hugged it as I lied down on my bed and watched the ceiling.

I knew I was exaggerating, but still I felt as if it was now me against the rest of the world. My parents didn't care for anything but to keep up appearances, my dad didn't care for anyone but Alfred. And now Alfred didn't care for anyone but Rachel. I rolled to my stomach and rubbed my nose down into the mattress. It wasn't true. Alfred cared for me, but now he _also_ cared for Rachel, and she had become a part of his life that I wasn't part of. I couldn't quite accept it. Earlier, we'd done everything together, and he would never hide anything from me. Now I felt as if he had excluded me from something important.

As I lied there thinking, I came to realise that every part of my life was centred around Alfred, and slowly it made me furious. I only went to that very school because Alfred did, and I only had him as a friend because dad used to force me to go see him, and everything I had ever done for the past 3 years had been because Alfred told me to do it. Even now, after a fight with my parents, I was spending time thinking of him rather than me, and I tried to remember just one person who cared for me alone without Alfred being included, just like Rachel cared for Alfred and not me.

The only person I could think of was Evan.

I got up and went over to the mirror next to my closet and took a good, long look at my green hair. I turned my side to the mirror and looked again, then my back and looked over my shoulder. Evan had been following me because he wanted for us to spend time together, not because I knew the popular guy Alfred or could make them meet. He just wanted to see _me_ and talk with _me_ , and not once had he mentioned Alfred's name. I ran my fingers through my hair and turned my front to the mirror again. A small smile came to my lips.

"It's not just hair," I mumbled as if a realisation has just hit me hard. "It's _me_."

* * *

The following day at lunch break, Alfred was lost for words.

"Arthur," he mumbled, but he didn't get further, and I just tried to look clueless as I sat down at his table with my lunch and opened my bag of tea.

"That's my name," I said and dropped the teabag into my mug of hot water. Alfred shoved his tray with food aside so that he could lean in over the table and take a closer look at my hair.

"Your hair is green." I swallowed and felt my lips shake a little as he said no more. I picked up my apple and looked away.

"Mhmm, so it seems."

"Why is it green?"

"Because I dyed it green."

"Oh.." Alfred sat back and messed around with his sandwich. I took a bite of my apple. After a while he asked: "Why did you dye it green?" and I shrugged.

"I felt like it."

"Cool." I stopped chewing on the piece of apple and looked over at him. He was staring at me with his blue eyes glittering in honesty. I swallowed.

"Huh?"

"It's cool," he said and gestured to my hair, "the hair." I put down my apple.

"Oh.. Thanks.." He smiled nicely and took a bite of his lunch. I felt strangely good being told that by Alfred, but then I remembered that it shouldn't all be about what Alfred thought, and I straightened up and cleared my throat. "I mean, not that it matters what you think," I said, but the look Alfred gave me was so weird that I regretted my words immediately.

"What?" he asked confused, and I blushed deeply and looked down in my cup.

"Nothing."

"Arthur!" Evan grabbed the chair next to me and sat down by my side. He put his arm around me and dragged my chair closer to his. "How did it go? What did the birth-givers say?" I put down my cup and turned to give him a cheeky smile.

"Dad wasn't happy at all, and mom started crying." Alfred gagged on his sandwich. Both Evan and I looked at him. He started at me perplexed.

"You made your mom cry?" he asked clearly surprised, but Evan just laughed and patted my back. He seemed to ignore Alfred as he looked back at me.

"Aww, well, shit happens. As long as you like it!" He ran his fingers through my hair. I felt my cheeks darken in colour, and I shyly moved a bit away. From the corners of my eyes I could see Alfred following our conversation intensely.

"I do like it," I admitted and took a sip of my tea. Evan nodded with a grin and stole one of my grapes.

"If you want to, you can borrow one of my hoods. I think it'll fit you better than this senior-shirt!" He grabbed at my green cardigan and gave it a tug. Alfred snorted.

"There's nothing wrong with Arthur's clothes." I didn't think so either, but as Evan raised his brows and discreetly rolled his eyes at Alfred's words, I couldn't help but to snicker silly.

"I would like to borrow a shirt," I said, and I felt my heart throb excitedly as Alfred's jaw dropped.

"Your dad will go nuts," he said, and I bit my lower lip. He was right, he would. If he ever saw me in the same kind of clothes that Evan wore, he would die on the spot. I knew that Alfred tried to tell me that with those few words, because he understood that deep down, I cared for my dad's opinion just like any common boy did. But because Evan was sitting there next to me, I couldn't just agree with Alfred's words. I had to play it cool to make him understand that I was far more interesting than Alfred. A fear clutched my heart - the fear that even Evan would turn his back to me and choose my golden friend as his new companion just like everyone else had done. So I let go of a short, fake laughter and leaned back in my chair.

"I don't care about dad," I said, and I felt my tongue shake with every spoken word, "he can.. fuck off." Alfred's eyes widened to the point where his eyeballs might've fallen out. I knitted my eyebrows together and felt extremely bad for what I had just said, but Evan laughed amused and patted my shoulder even more, and he moved close to me again.

"Good one!" he cheered, but his words were a small consolation. The nasty eyes that Alfred sent me meant much more, and I looked down and kept reminding myself that this wasn't about him, but me. Evan ran his fingers through my hair again and tugged at my earlobe with two fingers. "Well, I'll see you after school, alright?" We hadn't agreed on meeting up, but I nodded anyway and gave his hand a friendly clap.

"Yeah, see you.." I said. Evan disappeared in between the tables to go look for his mates. I peeled my cup of tea closer while Alfred put his sandwich down. I think he was about to say something, but Rachel hugged him from behind and interrupted the one opportunity he had to speak his mind.

"Alfred," she said and kissed his scalp, and I pressed my chin closer to my neck to make sure it looked like I wasn't interested in their little love-scene. But I tired my eyes trying to look up between my fringes towards them. Alfred's hands were placed on her arms, and he turned his head to look at her. He mumbled something, and she giggled something back, and then he mumbled some more, and she giggled even harder as if he was one big joke. I clenched my hands in my lap, and as a loud snort of laughter escaped from the girl's nose, I got up and grabbed my bag off of the ground. Alfred looked at me.

"Are you leaving?" he asked, and I dragged the straps over my shoulders and nodded. He got up. "I'll go too," he said, and for a second I actually felt fine with that thought, but then Rachel chirped,

"Me too!" and I shook my head harshly.

"No, you just stay and do your thing," I mumbled and tightened the straps on my school bag. "I'll go alone." And so I did. I quickly strolled in between the tables to get away from them as fast as I could. Rachel's loud giggling was stuck on my mind. It was as if her voice had been recorded on a CD which was now playing on repeat in my head. I closed my eyes and walked faster as I tried to think of something else than women, and I suddenly fell as my knees bumped against something.

"Wow, watch out!" someone yelled, and I opened my eyes and looked around. I was bending in over a table. At the end of it Evan was sitting, and around it his mates were, all of them looking at me. I had my chest slammed down into someone's salad, and I straightened up all flustered.

"Sorry," I mumbled and peeled a piece of tomato off of my shirt. I was about to go on as one of the guys at the table grabbed my arm.

"Hey, aren't you staying with us?" I looked back at him. Then I looked at the others. Evan nodded eagerly at the idea.

"Yeah, sit down. Here, have my tea," he said and offered me a cup of coffee. I smiled wryly and grabbed a chair.

"Okay then," I mumbled and sat down, and the happy face Evan showed me was so priceless that I had to laugh.

"Nice hair," one of the girls commented, and I smiled at her shyly.

"Thank you." I looked around. All the new faces looked back. Then I cleared my throat. "So, who are you all?"

* * *

Besides Evan, I immediately came to like two other persons from the group. Heracles was one of them, a pretty sleepy guy with a fetish for cats. He didn't really dress up differently, and I think it was mostly his way of behaving that had made him join this group of alternative youngsters. He seemed pretty dumb, he hardly ever spoke, but when he finally parted his lips and let his tongue move, he always spoke clever words and long, meaningful sentences. Him and Toris were friends as well, and somehow all three of us ended up hanging out at lunch or meet up at the bus stop in the morning to go to class together. We felt comfortable speaking to each other without being committed to only see each other. I considered them both a way for me to get through the day without being lonely.

The other person was a girl, Elizabeta. She was short and always rather cheerful, but her language was foul and reminded me of a sailor's. She would always swear and joke about things that I normally only heard boys speak about, and sometimes she made me uncomfortable with her sexual jokes and intrusive personality. She hated everything girly, and her skirts always carried pictures of skulls or tombstones. Since Rachel was pretty much the opposite of her, she always loudly commented on her personality or looks whenever she saw her, and though I found it rather rude, it also amused me to no end. Already that very first day when I met her, she told me that she admired me for being able to look at Rachel without slapping her. "That girl is so feminine that I bet she bleeds pink nail varnish!" she said to me, and I laughed for the rest of that day.

Both of them had heard about me from Evan, and since they were also going to the party that weekend, all four of us ended up in Evan's room later that day to talk about how to get there. Apparently some girl from another school was the one throwing the party, and she lived at the other end of town, so we would have to go by bus. Elizabeta was the one who lived closest to me, so though Evan wasn't all that happy about it, we agreed that he would go with Heracles, while I would go with Elizabeta.

"And we'll meet outside the house at eight," Evan said and clapped his hands together as if that was the end of our party-talk. We all nodded. I was sitting in his bed next to him, Elizabeta had claimed his chair while Heracles was taking a nap in his windowsill. I looked around. Evan's room was pretty small, but he had used the space good. He had a single bed, a chair and a table, a bookcase filled with stuff and that was pretty much it. Everything was held in dark colours besides the posters of bands on the walls. I was admiring one with a picture of a man holding a guitar. Evan had noticed me staring and got up. "Do you like that one?" he asked and pointed to it. I nodded.

"What band is it?"

"Sex Pistols."

"Are they any good?" Elizabeta snickered.

"That's the one and only punk band," she said, and I felt dumb for even asking. Evan picked out a CD from his bookcase and handed it to me.

"You can have this. Listen to it when you get home," he said. I looked at the yellow front with the name 'Sex Pistols' crossing it.

"Thanks," I said. Evan sat down next to me again and put his arm around my shoulders. I had gotten so used to it by now that I didn't even notice it when he touched me, but Elizabeta was giving us quite a stare. When Evan noticed, he winked at her. I gave them a questioning look. "Is something wrong?" I asked, but she just shook her head and got up.

"Nope. Gonna use the bathroom." She left the room with quick steps. We sat in silence and looked at the back of the CD while Heracles snored lowly. After a while I put it down on the mattress and leaned back in his bed. I was aiming for the headboard, but Evan caught my shoulders and turned me so I was lying with my head in his lap. I looked up at his smiling face.

"Will there be alcohol at the party?" I asked him, and he poked at my nose.

"Of course, babe. What else?"

"I don't know.." I felt a bit dumb for asking, but still I continued: "I've only been to parties with soda and cake." Evan seemed to ponder for a moment.

"Oh yeah, I remember those. That's long ago."

"You're not even allowed to drink, you know," I said to him and then smiled wryly as if I was just kidding. But I was being honest. Drinking and going to parties with alcohol was something you did when in high school. Not already now. At least that's what I'd always been told. Evan seemed to find my words humorous.

"It's my own choice. Who cares?" I shrugged and turned to lie on my side. I had my cheek pressed to his thigh, and it wasn't all that comfortable, but the way he was pushing me down with his arms on top of me made me feel like I shouldn't move away. It would seem unfriendly, but on the other hand this seemed a bit too friendly for my liking. This was something I would do with Alfred, not someone like Evan.

Alfred again.

I silently sighed and pressed myself more harshly against him. He chirped happily and allowed me to snuggle my nose into the fabric of his shirt. I didn't like it one bit, but I hated the thought of all my actions depending on my friendship with Alfred, so I tried to force myself to like it anyway.

Elizabeta came back into the room, whistling. I looked over at her. "Having a good time?" she asked me, and I struggled to sit up again as fast as I could.

"Wonderful," I mumbled. Heracles seemed to wake up from our little talk, and he stretched his arms high above his head in a yawn. Elizabeta grinned at him.

"Okay, now we're all fully awake, how about watching a movie or something?" Evan shrugged and I nodded. Heracles slipped down from the windowsill and grabbed a random DVD from the shelf.

"Let's act social," he said with a lazy smile at Evan.

* * *

After I got my hair coloured green, Evan considered himself my new, best friend. The first few days I found it hard to accept, but since Alfred was spending so much time either playing football or hanging around Rachel, it felt as if we weren't as close anymore as we used to be. Somehow I had been left with a free spot in my life for a new friend, and Evan was eagerly filling that out. He didn't mind coming early to school if that meant we could talk before class, and he had no problem waiting for me in the canteen just to sit with me for five minutes until the bus arrived. I felt flattered that he appreciated our friendship so much, but at the same time I felt restless. I wasn't left alone until I got home and locked the door to my room, and sometimes I would have go to the bathroom at school for a long time just to get a few minutes of peace.

Elizabeta carried a smug smile whenever she saw us together. I knew she was thinking something she wouldn't share to anyone but Heracles, and Heracles was too lazy to care for gossiping. Rumours were that she and Evan had had a lot of arguments about me before I came to join the group, and still they bickered when they thought I wasn't paying them attention. I tried to ask Evan if Elizabeta didn't like me, but he said that she liked me a whole lot. I felt that he was right, because she was very nice to me, but less nice to Evan whenever he touched me. I just couldn't make sense of what was troubling her about our friendship.

The party came up. I had found some old, dark jeans in the back of my closet and had decided to wear them together with a borrowed shirt of Evan's. It was a green one with holes down the side and some words in white at front which I couldn't make sense of. I quite liked it, but when I noticed it said 'fuck' on the back of it, I had grabbed a black shirt to wear as well to hide my back and that horrible word. I buttoned it up in front so as I left home, my parents thought I had dressed up appropriately, and first when I was on the bus I opened the shirt again to reveal the holed one underneath. I knew it was a petite thing to be proud of wearing, but still I was new to defying my parent's wishes, so even a little regain in authority meant a lot to me.

However, I had hardly gotten on the bus before a well-known face did as well. I blinked as Alfred sat down in front of me. "Alfred?" I said, and he turned around and looked at me all surprised.

"Arthur?"

"I thought you were going to ride your horse together with Rachel?" I said, and he blushed deeply and stuttered,

"I thought you were supposed to be with family." My throat went dry, and I searched all over my brain for a believable excuse. I found none, but still I said,

"I am to meet up with my parents in town. We're going out for dinner."

"I am going to meet up with Rachel in town too," Alfred quickly said, and we both looked at each other for a long moment. In the end, I had to force myself to look out the window instead, and he looked down at his lap. I knew he didn't believe me. My parents would never let me meet family looking like this. But on the other hand, why was he wearing his old, worn-out jeans and a fuzzy hoodie if he was meeting up with his girlfriend?

Neither of us really wanted to question the other, so as we arrived at town and both got off the bus, we just gave each other an awkward hug.

"See you next weekend, right?" I said, because we had agreed on that, and Alfred nodded.

"Yeah, have fun with your family."

"Have fun with Rachel." We stepped away from each other, turned around and then went our own way. Though it was in the middle of March, it was a pretty warm evening, but the meeting with Alfred had made me shiver as if I was freezing. I kicked a stone down the street and tried to remind myself of breathing steadily as I turned around the corner and spotted Elizabeth sitting waiting for me at a bench. I put on a smile and went over to her.

"Hey," I greeted, and she got up and smiled at me brightly. She was in a little, black, frilly dress with small, red stars on the skirt. On her hands she was wearing striped gloves. One was pink, the other baby-blue. She gave me a hug.

"Hello, sir. Looking good!" she said and pinched my cheeks. I grinned and slapped her hands away.

"Okay, enough. When will the bus arrive?"

"In ten minutes, I think." I nodded and we both sat down on the bench again. I tried to correct a fold in my shirt, and Elizabeta fixed a wild lock of hair. She had straightened it out and tied some of it up with a ribbon. I gazed at her from the corners of my eyes and wondered if such things attracted straight men, but then I remembered Rachel's horrible tries on pigtails and came to decide that they probably didn't notice.

We were quiet for a while. I was looking up at the sky and pondering about how Evan was doing at that very moment as Elizabeta then cleared her throat. "So you and Evan.." she started, and I looked over at her.

"What about us?"

"Uhmm.." She scratched a bit in her left glove. I noticed one of the fingers on it was falling off. The more she peeled at the stitching, the looser it became. "You're pretty close." I shrugged and looked down at my lap.

"Not really. I mean, I've known him since I became a student here, but, well.. We've only really been speaking for a week."

"He likes you quite a lot," she continued, and now she was looking at me carefully from the corners of her eyes. It was as if she expected me to say a certain sentence which I didn't know and didn't feel like speaking. She was holding her breath for no reason. I sighed and leaned back against the bench's backrest.

"Yeah, I guess he wants us to be close friends."

" _Just_ close friends?" Now I was the one to glare at her, but instead of looking away she let our gazes meet and lock. There was a warning to her words which I sensed, but wasn't sure how to react to them, and I felt my pupils shiver the longer she kept staring at me. In the end I had to blink.

"What do you mean?" I asked her, because it just felt safer than to assume anything. Before she got around answering, two lights turned around the corner and headed towards us. The bus was breaking its way through the dark. Elizabeta got up, but I kept sitting. "What do you mean?" I asked her again. The bus stopped in front of us and the doors opened. She leaned down and clapped my left knee.

"He's a year older than you, remember that. He's a good boy, but he's not you," she said and gave my knee a little squeeze as well. I wrinkled my brows and got up.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked her again and felt like a little, daft boy being taught the mystery of life. Elizabeta got on the bus and paid for our tickets. I took in a deep breath. I really didn't feel like getting on the vehicle before I had an answer to all this secrecy, but on the other hand I would never know anything if I just kept standing, so I followed her inside and sat down next to her in the back. She still didn't answer me, and I didn't question her words any further.

Evan _was_ a year older than me. I was fourteen, going for fifteen. But he was already fifteen and would turn sixteen before I even aged more. Then it would look to others as if he was two years older than me. The thought made me dizzy. There was something cool about knowing someone from the grades above, but it also scared me a bit, because they always seemed so different from the rest of us. Evan drank alcohol and had a tattoo, and all his friends spoke a lot about sex. I wasn't really keen on that subject since I didn't know much more than what I had seen in Alfred's porn magazine. I was sure that Alfred knew a lot. He always seemed to be well informed. But no matter how much he knew it couldn't be compared to the knowledge of Evan and his friends. Though Evan had told me that he was gay, he still knew a lot about what a man and a woman did in bed. He had tried to share it with me, but I found it disgusting to listen to. His sexualised mindset had been one of the things which had scared me from day one, and one of the many reasons as to why we didn't befriend each other earlier. When Alfred had spoken of sex, it had always seemed very innocent, and it had been at a level I could join in at. But this weird group of youngsters spoke like they were all porn-stars and had tried it all.

Sometimes I wondered if that was just what they were.

I looked down at my shoes. Maybe I too would drink alcohol, have a tattoo and know everything about sex in a year. But who was going to teach me all that?

"We're getting off here." Elizabeta grabbed my arm and ripped me out of my thoughts. I looked around. We had already been driving for fifteen minutes, but I hadn't noticed because I had been so caught up in my own little world of thoughts and daydreaming. As we stepped out of the bus and down onto the asphalt, we were in front of a cosy, little house with a nice front yard and a big sign saying 'welcome' placed up against the white fence. I looked around, but before I got to ask for Evan, he was already by my side and holding my arm between his hands.

"Hey, cutie," he grinned, and I smiled shyly back at him. "You look good in that shirt!"

"Thanks." I looked at him. He had coloured his Mohawk black this time, and his garments were also dark. Black scarf, black gloves, black shirt with some black necklace around his neck. The only thing on him which wasn't black was the little, white tooth attached to his necklace. I leaned in to get a better look. "Wow, what's that?"

"My dad gave it to me. It's from a wolf!" he said, and I gawked.

"Isn't that illegal?"

"I don't know. Do you want it?" He held out the tooth. I shook my head.

"I can't accept that," I laughed.

"Oh, come on."

"No, really."

"You can always pay me back."

"I don't have any money."

"Who said anything about money?" I blinked. The humorous mood had suddenly turned very serious. I parted my lips and was about to turn him down once again as Elizabeta pushed her way in between us and broke Evan's grip around my arm.

"Let's get inside, okay?" We both nodded, and she led the way towards the front door. As soon as she had walked past us, Evan was ready with his hands again. I felt almost as if he fondled my shoulders.

"How did you convince your parents to let you go?" he asked me as Elizabeta rang the doorbell. I smiled cheekily.

"I told them I was doing homework with Toris from class." Evan whistled and saluted.

"Nice one, little boy." The front door opened. A tall girl with huge sunglasses on looked at us.

"Party?" she just asked.

"We bring it!" Evan answered eagerly. The girl just shrugged and stepped aside to let us in.

"In the backyard," she said and closed the door behind us. As if he lived there, Evan dragged me through the house towards the backyard. Inside everything looked clean and nice and I wondered if there was even a party going on here. But as we crossed the living room and came closer to the big glass doors leading outside, I could hear the music pound in through the glass and see the many people moving around out there. I swallowed hard, looked up at Evan and then opened the door.

There was about forty people squeezed together in the little yard. I stumbled into the flock and felt myself being swallowed in towards the centre of it all as many different warm bodies moved around and pushed me on. I think someone called my name, but I wasn't sure as the loud music filled up my ears and made the blood in me pump unsteadily. I didn't recognize the singer, but it sounded like a young man screaming his lungs out in pain, and a woman in the background whispering about how society is killing us all. I grabbed around my black shirt just to hold onto something, and I swirled around and stared at the many new faces. I didn't feel frightened, though. But I felt overwhelmed, and I wasn't sure if the people fascinated me or disgusted me. A tall guy with pink eyebrows sent me an arrogant look and smirked, and I shoved my way past him back towards the glass doors. Someone grabbed my arm. I was pulled out of the crowd by Elizabeta.

"Oh God, are you alright?" she chirped into my ear, and I looked at her flustered. I felt alright, but my face must've been all red and heated up, because she pushed a glass of water in between my hands. "Here, drink. Sorry, Arthur, you've never been to a party before, have you?" I shook my head slowly and took a sip of the glass. We were standing by the large hedge surrounding the back of the house. People were coming and going and mingling and looking like nothing I had ever seen before. This was far from the family-parties dad sometimes held at home where old ladies with zimmer frames and men with monocles showed up. They could hardly speak without losing hold of their false teeth. Here everyone spoke all the time, and it seemed like they didn't care if no one was listening.

"Where's Evan?" I asked and looked up at Elizabeta, and she glared around annoyed.

"He's being a jerk again. Wait, I'll go look for him. Hey, Britta?" Suddenly she too was gone, and I leaned up against a lonely tree and glared into my water. I waited for Elizabeta to return, but she didn't, and as I had counted that eight songs had passed by, I figured more than half an hour had passed, and I slowly moved over to sit down at a broken garden chair. I looked around.

Was this what my parents had feared I would come to like? A garden filled with arrogant, selfish people speaking louder than the music and drinking as if there was no tomorrow? I didn't feel like I was at a party at all. I knew no one here, and I didn't look odd, and therefore I wasn't worth getting to know. I quickly felt my mood go bad. I thought I was going to have a fun evening with Evan, but now he was gone, and Elizabeta had left me as well, and Heracles apparently hadn't even showed up. I took in a sharp breath through my nose and leaned back against the chairs backrest. I could feel a broken piece of plastic stab my shoulder, but as I turned to correct it, the chair broke down and I hit the ground. A few people snickered, and I grunted in pain and started to kick around the air with my face all red as I tried to get up quickly. A shadow fell upon me.

"Are you drunk?" I stopped and sat up. The guy kneeled in front of me to look me in the eyes. He was a fairly skinny bloke, younger than me and with a slim face. His hair was short and black, and I could only see one of his eyes. The grey in it seemed hazy.

"No, I've only had water," I mumbled and tried to get up, but my back was throbbing with pain now, and instead of getting onto my feet, I feel back onto it with a sigh. The guy snickered.

"You look drunk."

"Leave me alone, then," I sneered. I had come to have fun, not to be made fun of, but instead of leaving me alone the bloke offered me a hand, and I hesitatingly grabbed it and was pulled up. I didn't thank him, though. I just started to brush dirt off of my pants.

"Did you come here alone?" I stayed quiet. "Because you've been alone the whole evening."

"I came with Elizabeta and Evan," I answered tired, assured that he didn't know them as a whole bunch of others were gathered here.

"Oh," he mumbled, but not as in 'oh, what are you talking about?' but as in 'oh, those two'. I bit my lower lip and sniffled.

"You know them?"

"Yeah.. Hey, uhm, I think they're busy. Don't you want to hang around with us?" He gestured towards two girls behind him who was talking and sometimes peeking at us. I brushed some hair out of my face and blinked surprised.

"Really?" I mumbled and licked my lips. It was such a nice gesture that I almost felt like hugging him. But I didn't get so far. Evan's arms swung around me from behind, and he dragged me into a hug.

"Hey, Ronny, Arthur's here with me." The skinny bloke, who was apparently named Ronny, quirked his brows and pouted at Evan.

"And where have you been, dear?" he asked, and Evan's fingers slipped down my chest, feeling up the fabric of his own shirt I was wearing.

"Somewhere," Evan answered avoiding. He buried his nose in my hair. "Where have you been, Arthur?" he asked, and I looked down at my shoes.

"Just here…"

"Had anything to drink?" I shook my head. "Okay, let's go get you something. See you, Ronny." Evan waved at him and pulled me with him as he went for the glass doors. I looked over my shoulder just to see Ronny sending me a sad pair of eyes as he lifted up in his black hair. He shook his head. Then I looked back at Evan.

I didn't know how to feel at that point. I knew no one but Evan and Elizabeta, and Evan had promised me that this would be a night of fun for the two of us. But instead he had left me for at least an hour, and I had just walked around all alone. However, the way he held my hand in his warm one, and the way he smiled so brightly when he looked at me, I came to believe that I was just being pathetic, and that he probably couldn't find me or something when he came to look for me after I got lost in the crowd. So I smiled back at him, and he led me inside to the crates of beer in the living room. He snatched two bottles from one of them and handed me one.

"Do you like beer?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"I have never tried it." He opened his own bottle by biting off the cap. I flinched and handed him mine as well. "Uh, can you-?" He leaned down and bit my cap off as well, and I shivered in a little laugh. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"Nope, I've done it a million times," he grinned, "I am a professional!"

"At biting caps?"

"Yep." He put the bottle to his lips and gulped down half of it in one go. I watched how his Adam's apple bobbed up and down with every gulp, and how his thin lips got all red and big when meeting with the liquid. As he parted from the bottle again, I quickly looked down at my own, took in a deep breath and then gulped down a mouthful. It tasted horrible. I leaned forward and coughed harshly, and Evan slapped my back while laughing. "Aww, don't be a pussy now, Arthur. Come on, take one more sip." He pushed at the bottom of my bottle, and I lifted it and took yet a mouthful. I clenched my eyebrows together and tried to make my taste buds stop working. I imagined the liquid just to be water, but the smell was hard to wish away. However, I couldn't stop drinking. Evan had the palm of his hand pressed flat to the bottom of my bottle, forcing me to go on, and I kept swallowing breathlessly until I suddenly found the bottle empty. I lost hold of it, and so did Evan, and it fell to the floor and shattered. I bended forward again and gasped in air. "Way to go!" Evan cheered. I wiped my lips off in my arm and dizzily straightened up.

"It wasn't… all that bad," I lied and looked at him. He grabbed my face and pressed a wet kiss to my forehead. He did it the same way as Alfred would do it, but it felt very different, and I didn't get the same tingling feeling inside. I wondered if that was a good sign or not. Evan grabbed yet a bottle, opened it and handed it to me.

"Come, let's go join the others."

* * *

The party was pretty quiet for me. Someone knocked over another guy's wine, and they started fighting until a girl with big breasts started crying. And someone puked all over the bathroom. I noticed it when I went to splash some water on my face. But nothing else really happened. I was amazed at how easy it is to attend a party and not become involved in anything. As I sat there together with Evan and some of his friends and just talked and drank beer, I wondered if my parents had overreacted because they had no idea of what a party really is like. Dad had told me that at parties women get pregnant, and mom had said that a guy who drinks beer before turning eighteen will turn into a drunk. Still I didn't feel like one after three bottles. I came to decide that parties are what you make of them. I labelled this one as being pretty calm.

My mom, however, wasn't calm at all. Evan was picked up by an older friend, and they dropped me off at the bus stop close to my house. Evan kissed my cheek and said: "See you on Monday, lovely," and I strolled back home all happy and still filled with music. I opened the front door and was met by my mom's angry face.

"Where have you been?" she asked me in a dangerously calm voice. I could see she was trying to maintain composed, but she was about to break. I closed the door behind and started to take off my boots.

"I told you already. I went to do homework with Toris," I said.

"Toris called," mom said, and I stiffened. Slowly, I kicked off my shoes and straightened up again to look at her. She had her arms crossed.

"…oh?"

"He asked me if he could speak to you, and I told him that you were on your way to his house. He couldn't understand why, since apparently he's spending this weekend at his grandparents by the sea." I swallowed harshly and scratched my cheek. Mom looked at my shirt. "What's that?" she asked and pulled at one of the many fabricated holes in it. I stuttered,

"I borrowed it."

"Have you been drinking?" I hesitated. Mom leaned in. "Let me smell your breath. Come on, exhale." I did, and she crinkled her nose at the characteristic smell of beer. "Arthur-"

"Go to bed." Mom and I looked towards the stairs. Dad was standing by them in his pyjamas. He looked tired and annoyed. "Arthur, go to bed," he said, and I didn't wait for mom to interrupt this brilliant idea, but just nodded and ran up the stairs. I didn't spend a second listening to them, but just locked the door to my room and got undressed. I was feeling tired, and as I noticed the clock on the wall, I realised that it was two at night. Not late compared to many grown-up parties, but I had never been outside home after midnight unless mom or dad was with me. I felt a pride beam inside of me. As if I was turning into a grown-up as well. I carefully folded up Evan's green shirt and placed it on a chair before I crawled in underneath my duvet and closed my eyes. I wanted to lie and consider the evening, but before my thoughts even got to remember Elizabeta, I was already fast asleep.

* * *

The party just became one out of many. I would always go with Evan since he knew which parties were good and which were not, and often we would have a good, quiet time drinking beer and just talking. But just as often he would disappear and not show up again until I was on my way home. Those times the parties sucked, because no one seemed to want to talk to me when Evan was not around. Just as Alfred attracted cool people in school, Evan attracted cool people outside of school, and at both places I was an outsider who was lucky enough to get a bit of their glory whenever they paid me attention. I tried not to mind, but I _did_ mind. I wondered why I couldn't just be cool on my own. I didn't need to be popular, but just someone people would respect and want to learn to know.

Still, not everyone respected Evan. As weeks passed by and I met guys and girls outside of his circle of friends, I came to realise that a whole lot hated Evan with a burning passion. They didn't tell me why, though. Whenever I was close to hearing the reason from one of them, Evan showed up out of nowhere and dragged me away from them. It was as if he didn't want me to talk to certain people, but I couldn't make myself ask him why. I thought that I was just imagining it all, and I wouldn't like to look dumb and suspicious by letting him hear about my worries. But I did worry a whole lot.

Mom also worried, but she didn't wait up for me anymore. It was as if she had lost all faith in me. Dad, on the other hand, had changed. He didn't try to stop me from going to the parties, but he would sometimes stop me and tell me about condoms and alcohol and how to react if something bad happened. I know he was just trying to be kind and sweet, but I felt I had separated from him. It was as if we weren't in the same family anymore. He would sit and drink red wine in his living room and listen to classical music while I would be in my room with a beer while dying my hair and listening to Sex Pistols, Sid Vicious or the U.K. subs. I think he wanted for me to change, but he wasn't sure what to do to make me become my nice, childish self again. He couldn't really complain about me as my grades were kept high, no teacher ever complained about me, I didn't go break things in the home and I didn't show up with any tattoos or piercing on my body. I just sometimes wore a pair of holed jeans or a band-shirt. That was pretty much it.

Alfred wasn't sure what to think, and somehow that was hard to me. He never commented on my clothing, but he did smile at me when I had coloured my hair in a different colour. "I like green the best," he would sometimes say, and after a while green just became the colour I would always use when dying my hair. Alfred would also like to try and have his hair coloured, but his parents wouldn't let him. Whenever I came over, his mom would always tell me how good I looked and what a nice shirt I was wearing, but if Alfred then asked her if he could look the same as me, she would tell him that he was an American, and Americans shouldn't do like the Englishmen. I easily translated her words in my own mind: Alfred was her little boy, and he shouldn't become some revolutionary young man.

It was a dumb worry, though, because Alfred liked to be the popular boy in school, and if he started to look like me, he would lose all the attention quickly. He'd become the head of the football team, and he spent a lot of time practicing. I sometimes went to see him, but as Rachel started doing the same, I stopped going there. I didn't like Rachel one bit, though I had never really spoken with her. She was the little sister of one of Evan's friends, so he didn't like her one bit, and since Evan and I were friends, I just had to think the same as he did. Still they stayed boyfriend and girlfriend, and I stayed far away from them whenever I saw them together, and in the end I ended up staying far away from Alfred as well, because we just couldn't find the time to hang out anymore. He had his own world of popular friends and swooning girls, and I had my world of beer and outsiders. We were drifting apart. It made me a bit sad.

Summer kicked in. It was a warm July, and Alfred and I had met up in the old shack to exchange birthday-presents. I hadn't known what to give him, since I wasn't sure what he liked anymore, but I think he had had the same troubles about buying me something, so in the end I had just went for something American. I got him a thick book-collection on the history of American football, and I think he liked it, because he immediately started to flick through the pages of the first book and look at the many pictures. He had gotten me a CD with the Sex Pistols, and a matching band-shirt in blue. I felt he had really tried his best to match my interests, so though I already owned the CD he had gotten me, I lied and said that I had wanted that certain one for months. My statement made him smile and blush as if I had complimented him greatly.

After having gotten out presents, we sat drinking soda and just looked out the little door. We had grown a lot since the shack had been built, and we were almost too big to sit inside it. The tree it was made of had started to fall apart, and the many pictures and posters on the walls were crumbled, wet or gone. I looked up at Captain America and sighed.

"Dad will tear down the shack when summer ends," Alfred said, and I looked at him all surprised.

"Really?"

"Yeah, because it's so old."

"Hmm.." I nodded. It wasn't pretty to look at anymore, and we hardly ever went here. We were too old to play in a shack and put things on the walls all joyfully. But somehow the thought of losing this place hurt me a little. I stretched my legs and looked down at my bottle of soda. "That's a bit sad."

"I know," Alfred said and leaned back against the wall behind us. His shoulder brushed against mine. "I love this place. I know you probably think it's silly, but-"

"I don't," I interrupted him, and we looked at each other for a long time.

"I will try and ask him if we can fix it instead," Alfred then decided, and I nodded.

"I will help."

"Thanks.

"Yeah, no problem." I put my bottle aside and rested my hands across my stomach. "We've done a lot up here when we were younger, hah?" Alfred snickered and nodded.

"Yeah. I remember when we played cards."

"And put up posters."

"And held secret meetings."

"And touched each other." We both snapped in air. Alfred looked at me, and I blushed furiously. Was I the only one remembering that? Alfred hesitated. Then he bumped his shoulder closer to mine.

"Yeah… I remember that too." I swallowed nervously.

"We were young and dumb, hah?" I stuttered.

"Maybe," Alfred answered. "…have you ever touched any other boy like that?"

"No!" I almost yelled and looked away. "W-why would you ask that?"

"I dunno…"

"…have you?"

"No." We were quiet for a while. I could hear how Alfred messed around with the spit in his mouth before swallowing it. He started to move around next to me again. Suddenly I felt his hot breath slip across my ear, and he whispered: "Can I touch you?" I flinched and turned to look him straight in the eyes. I thought he was joking, but there was a certain honesty to his flustered face, and I had to look down.

"Alfred… We can't…"

"Why not?" he asked, still whispering. As I didn't answer straight away, he grabbed my wrists and gave them a little tug. "I won't tell anyone," he said. I couldn't help but laugh at that.

"I certainly hope not!" I said, and he snickered as well. I leaned in closer to him. I don't know why, but I felt it was right, and our foreheads bumped together. I looked into his eyes. "…I won't tell anyone either," I then whispered and felt my heart stop beating as I realised what I had just said. Alfred gasped in air excitedly.

"Is that a yes?" I nodded. "…okay." I moved my head a bit. His soft skin rubbed against mine, and I leaned away from him again, just a bit.

"How should we do this?" I asked him, and I felt as if I was set back in time to the moment when we touched each other for the first time. We hadn't done it since, but now it was going to happen, and right now we were both old enough to understand what it _really_ meant to touch each other. Still I denied it in my brain. We were just good friends, and we were just being silly. We weren't being _gay._ Sexuality had nothing to do with this. Admiring Alfred and him admiring me had.

"Next to each other?" Alfred asked, but then he shook his head. "No, that won't work," he then decided, and I wasn't sure why it wouldn't work. I reached back and closed the small door to the shack just to do something first, and when I turned to look at him again, he grabbed me around my waist and pulled me up to sit across his knees. Out groins were facing each other, and we had a space of about ten inches between us. As he spread his legs so my ass bumped down on the floor between them, I automatically spread mine a little as well. I had a leg on each side of him, my feet were resting against the wall he was leaning up against.

"This isn't comfortable," I finally said, and he blushed.

"Sorry.."

"It's fine. Can't we sit like… uhm… like we used to?" I asked, and finally he agreed and we sat down shoulder to shoulder. Alfred did nothing. I had kind of expected him to start out like he did when we were younger, but as he didn't, I finally let my hand slip across his thigh and down between his legs. I could feel his grown member behind the fabric of his pants, and I closed my eyes and felt how my cheeks started to darken in colour. I squeezed at the shaft, and Alfred gasped. It made me smile a bit. As if I was suddenly in charge of something, and it felt good not to be the one left behind. After all the parties I had learned a lot about sex from Evan, and even before meeting him, I knew that masturbation was fairly normal. But I wasn't sure if it was normal to do it with other boys. Still, this wasn't masturbation, this was just touching, and if we kept a layer of fabric between our members and our hands, it was all okay, right?

I started to move my hand up and down, following the line of his shaft. Alfred still wasn't touching me, but I didn't mind. I moved a bit to face him more and leaned in closer to him as I let my hand work more flatly on his bulge. As I peeked up at him, I noticed that he had closed his eyes. I wanted to say something, but I wasn't sure what I wanted to say, so instead I just kept quiet, and I kept fondling his shaft and the outline of the cockhead when I went up further. Suddenly Alfred moved his hand in close to mind, and I thought he was going to move my hand away, but instead he zipped down his pants and then let his hand drop again. I looked at him. He blushed, said nothing, and I then poked two fingers down his open pants and across his underwear. His cock was much closer now. I felt my breath hitch as I let my whole hand slip down into his pants to feel up the underwear and his warm cock pulsating like mad. He had started to stiffen. I could feel how his cock twitched when I brushed my fingertips down across the shaft to his balls which were wrapped heavily up in the underwear. He was getting turned on. I looked at his red face again. I wondered what he was thinking about.

I moved to sit across his legs again as he had first wanted me to. I didn't unwrap his cock from the underwear, and he didn't ask me to, so I just kept fondling his shaft through the fabric, squeezed at it and tugged at the cockhead and then slipped my hand down again to start all over. Alfred's breathing was getting heavier, and he had started to sweat a bit. I leaned in and pressed our foreheads together, and he opened his eyes a bit to look at me.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked him, and I was surprised as my voice came out much more hoarsely than I had intended it to. He licked his lips but didn't answer. I swallowed and daringly sloped my head a bit to the side so that our noses rubbed together. I could feel his hot, ragged breath now sweeping across my dry lips.

"I am not thinking about Rachel," he then said, and it was as if that sentence made my heart speed up in beating, and suddenly my hand moved quicker up and down his shaft. Alfred spread his legs a bit more and gasped in air.

"Are you going to cum?" I asked him, and he closed his eyes and nodded painfully. He slapped my hand away and started to jerk himself off, and I just leaned in close to him and pressed my face to his neck. My hands found their way to his shoulders, and I held onto him as if I would die if I let go, and suddenly I could feel a harsh shudder run down his body as he came, and his arm started to move more slowly. Alfred gasped in a lot of air, all out of breath, and I lifted my body so he could tug himself properly in again and zip up. I didn't want to let go of him, and he didn't want to let go of me either, so he hugged me close and rolled us over so he was on top of me, pressing me down onto the floor. I kept hiding my face at his neck, and he hid his red cheeks at my shoulder while his breathing slowed down. I was all hard. I hadn't noticed earlier, but now with Alfred on top of me, I could feel how my cock had swollen and was begging for attention, poking through my pants and surely making a bulge Alfred could feel. I wanted him to touch me and yet I didn't want it, because he was my straight friend, but I was gay, and I could touch him without it meaning anything, but if he touched me what would that make him?

Alfred's hand sneaked down my body. I rolled us over so I was on top again and then got up.

"I need to get home," I said, and it was a clear lie, because we had vacation and it was in the middle of the day, and at home would be nothing but my mom baking cookies. Alfred sent me a disappointed look, but he nodded.

"O-okay…" I grabbed my CD and shirt and opened the door. The bright sunshine blinded me shortly, and I wasn't sure if it was my imagination or if it really happened, but when I was about to climb down the ladder, I felt a pair of hot lips brush against the nape of my neck. "See you," Alfred said, and I jumped to the ground and waved at him before running back home.

I spent the rest of that day in bed.

* * *

The next morning Evan came over to pick me up. We were supposed to go to his house for a movie-night. I was still in bed, had been lying there for 12 hours straight, and not even dinner had gotten me downstairs. I had lied to mom, told her that I was ill, and I looked ill with my face all heated up and my body shaking and my eyes wet. But really I was just in need. A terrible need that I couldn't let anyone know of. I felt horrible and wonderful at the same time, but when Evan asked me what was wrong, I told him that I was having a stomach ache and that we would have to watch movies some other day. He left me looking all sad.

Mom and dad went out shopping in the afternoon. I forced myself to get out of bed and get dressed. I wasn't sure from where I got the energy, because I had started to truly feel as if I was sick, but it was as if my body started to move on its own. It went down the stairs and put on shoes and a jacket, and at first I thought it wanted to go visit Alfred and tell him sorry for yesterday, but instead I found myself strolling down the street, crossing roads, turning around corners, walking past the supermarket to stop in front of a certain house. I knocked on the door. It opened.

"Arthur?" Rome asked surprised, and I felt my eyes getting all wet.

"I need to talk," I said, and then I fell to my knees crying.


	11. 11

Rome had aged rapidly in the few years I hadn't seen him. White, rough stubbles covered his chin and led up across his cheeks to his tired, brown eyes. They had looked golden back when I first met him, but now they appeared strangely foggy and lifeless. He had bags under his eyes and deep furrows on his forehead, and when he walked, it was with his eyes following the floor and his back bent as if he couldn't straighten up properly. He wasn't the same, cheerful man who'd poured me tea with a glimpse of zest for life in his eyes at spring long ago.

"It's okay," was the first thing he said to me when he shoved the door fully open and let me inside, "come in, take a seat." My eyes were still shiny with tears, and I nodded pathetically and stumbled inside. The carpet sucked my shoes down, and I had to work hard on each step I took. Someone had spilled a sticky substance on it, and it had been lying for so long that it had become a part of the rug. I looked down across the long, brown trail leading from the door to the kitchen. Rome scratched the back of his head. "Just a little water," he said, and though water wasn't this sticky, I just nodded and followed him as he walked into the living room.

The house had been strange on the inside when I was there with Alfred, but now it wasn't just strange, but also dirty. An odd, thick smell of rot filled up the air, and I crinkled my nose and almost forgot that I was sad and heartbroken. Instead my eyes were busy inspecting everything in the big house. Large piles of paper and packaging from food were stuffed away in the corners and in height they almost reached the ceiling. The few flowers that had been put up had died long ago, and only the dry dirt now filled up the pots. I tiptoed to look into one of the pots placed on a shelf, only to find a fat spider looking back at me. On the short way to the living room, I counted seven spiders and ten cobwebs hanging loosely from the ceiling.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Rome asked friendly and turned around to give me a warm smile. I stopped in the doorway leading into the living room and let my gaze slip around. I wasn't thirsty, but still I just nodded automatically. "Will water be fine?" I nodded again, and Rome disappeared out into the kitchen. I glared at his footsteps leading through the dust as he walked. If Mom had seen this house, she would've ripped out her eyes in sheer frustration. Clearly Rome either didn't own a hoover or he didn't know how to use one. As I carefully took a seat in the old leather sofa, I couldn't help but to be puzzled by the windows. There were four in the room. Three of them overlooked the garden which had been left to grow wildly, and they were all dirty with bird droppings and muck. But one of them had been carefully cleaned, and scrub that could cover up the view had been thoroughly cut down. I straightened up to get a better view of it and tried to guess why Rome had decided to clean that window only, but then he came staggering back into the room, and I quickly got up and got my glass of water from his hands.

"Thank you," I smiled, and Rome did a little shake with the head and sat down in the sofa. I took the seat next to him, and while he watched me I took a small gulp of the water. I put the glass down onto the table before leaning back into the sofa. My before wet eyes had now turned strangely dry, and I blinked to make the water run again. It was as if the meeting with Rome had made every ounce of sadness in me knot up and disappear, and I smiled cheekily at him and scratched my arm. "Thanks," I said again and took in a deep breath through my nose. I could smell coffee. He had probably started brewing some.

"Why are you so upset?" he asked and placed his arm on the backrest behind me. I rested my hands in my lap and looked down at my squared nails. I wasn't sure how I should start out explaining everything, and the more I thought about it, the less I found I had to explain. How to explain something you don't understand yourself? I swallowed nervously.

"I-uhm…" I started out stuttering, but I didn't get any further in my reasoning. Why should Rome even care? Back when I first met him, I didn't really understand the fact that he was gay. I understood that he was with a man, and that Alfred and I had to keep that as a secret, but I think we only slowly came to realise why. We hadn't spoken about that little adventure since, and I didn't know what Alfred thought about it all, but especially during the last year I had somehow come to understand what it was all about. It didn't hit me one morning, in my mind I had just slowly been working with the issue and solved it. That was probably why Rome as the one whom I decided to visit for help. But why should he help me? Because he was gay? Giving it a second thought, my visit made very little sense.

Rome cleared his throat and ripped me out of my thoughts. His hand slipped from the backrest to cover my left shoulder. He had a big hand with long fingers, and I looked at it before I looked at him. His face was very grave. "What is wrong?" he asked me, pronouncing each word clearly, and I swallowed again and whispered:

"I think I am gay." Rome's face didn't change one inch. He just nodded slowly and quietly nudged for me to go on as he gave my shoulder a light squeeze. My breath hitched. "There's this guy at school, Evan, and he's really gay, he said so himself. We haven't done anything. It's not like he's my boyfriend. But Alfred is my friend, and I have touched him. But that's just because we're close, right? Dad says poofters are nasty. I don't feel nasty. I am still a virgin, and I do well in school, and I have friends, and I have never bullied anyone. So I am not nasty. But does that mean I am not gay either?" I babbled, and suddenly it was as if a knot inside of my stomach loosened up, and all my worries and thoughts suddenly spurted out from between my rambling lips. I didn't even keep track of what I was saying anymore, I just spun around in the sofa to face Rome fully as I went on. "I saw a porn magazine with gays in it. They all had massive cocks and no hair on their balls. I know that's just porn and that it's not real, but if gays are turned on by that, won't anyone be turned on by me? Alfred has a body like that. He plays football. All the girls love him, and he loves Rachel. I don't really know Rachel. But I don't like her. If Alfred has to have a girlfriend, it should at least be someone nice. Like a model or something. Because he's good enough for that. I am not good enough for anything. I am not even good enough for Evan. Whenever we go to parties, he disappears for a long time and only shows up right before I go home. When he's drunk he starts fondling me. I don't really like it. Maybe it's because he hasn't got a massive cock. He says he does, but I once saw him naked, and he didn't. It wasn't tiny, it was average. Not like the ones in the magazines. Or Alfred's. But I don't really think much about the size. Is that strange?" I held a pause at that question and just stared at Rome. He cleared his throat and patted my hair as if I was a child.

"I am going to get myself a cup of coffee," he said, "and when I come back, let's start at the beginning."

"The beginning?" I repeated hopelessly, because I didn't even know that myself, but as Rome returned with his coffee, sat down and asked me to begin my story, it just felt natural to start back when I was eleven and met Alfred for the first time. So that's what I did.

I told Rome about how Alfred turned my life upside down, how I lost Kiku as a friend and started to hang out with Alfred and Ivan. I let him know how girls never really fascinated me. I found the female body strange, but not exciting, while I just wanted to know more about all the grown men. At first I had thought it was because I wanted a body like theirs, and that that had been the reason for me putting up posters of muscular superheroes. But as time passed, I realised that I didn't want to look like them. I just wanted to be able to admire them and get close.

Then I told him about how Alfred and I had gone to look at porn magazines, and how I had felt looking at all the naked men. I told him that I felt the same when I stood in the changing room and discreetly studied how the other boys developed. How they got hair on their chest and heavy balls and big nipples and fat cocks. At that point I shyly let him know how small I felt compared to the others, and Rome promised me that I still had time to grow bigger. Somehow it was a comfort, and somehow not as I knew my time was running out. Soon I would stop growing in height and length, and everything would stay as it was for the rest of my life.

With a lump in my throat I then shakily told him about Evan, and how he had figured out I was gay, and when I came to tell him about how I had recently touched Alfred, and that I had did the very same thing when I was younger, my voice came out as a whisper.

"And I don't know why," I said and let go of my shirt. I had been playing with it to keep my hands busy, but now I peeked at Rome who was still listening to me intensely and quietly like a good, concerned grown-up. "But… When he was to touch me, I became scared. Scared of what I might start feeling and doing, and what I might tell him. And what was going to happen to us if… if I allowed him to…" I gave my shirt a harsh tug just to do something, and I looked down. My face was all red, but I hadn't cried while speaking. I could still feel the dried out tears from earlier stuck on my cheeks. Rome was holding his breath. He clearly was waiting to see if I was going to continue my long story, but as I said no more, he sighed and put his arms around me. I thought he was going to give me a word of advice, but instead he tiredly glared towards a picture of him and Germania which was hanging on the wall opposite of us.

"Back in high school I was a pretty popular lad. I didn't really have any talents when it came to school work, rather I spent all my time being the funny guy in class. At lunch break I was the social one who always had a story to tell or a fun prank to act out, and I never favoured anyone. I guess the others liked that, at least they started to hang around me though I never asked them to, and they went to see me at the local sports centre where I took classes in boxing." Rome scratched his chin and pondered a bit about his own story, and I wrinkled my brows in contemplation as well. I couldn't quite figure out what this story had to do with me being gay, but Rome continued undaunted. "Then one day I came across someone great, a beautiful person," he said, and it was as if his voice turned a bit softer, and his lips wriggled back into a mysterious smile. "Suddenly I didn't know what to say or what to do. I wanted that person to like me just as much as I liked him. But then I got a girlfriend." I snorted out loud. Rome looked at me with a glimpse in his eyes.

"That's dumb," I mumbled and couldn't help but to cross my arms when I turned to him. I dragged my legs with me up into the sofa. "How would he know that you're interested in him if you have a girlfriend? Let alone that you're gay?"

"Well, I guess I was afraid of him finding out about that."

"I don't get your point."

"If he knew that I liked him, what danger would that put our friendship in?" I swallowed harshly and looked down at my lap.

"Hmm.."

"With a girlfriend I could still be close to him without doing anything stupid, because I am anything but a cheater."

"But then how did you get to him in the end?"

"I didn't." Rome got up. I watched him as he went over to the picture and took it down. He looked at it with certain warmth in his eyes that I'd seen in Dad's whenever he saw an old photo of mom in her wedding dress. I slowly licked my lips as I waited for him to finish the story. "I was too scared to take the next step," he said, almost whispered, and I leaned forward in the sofa to catch every little worth. He drew in a heavy breath. I could sense something tickling acting up in my stomach. As if this meaningless story suddenly got important to me, and I just needed to know what happened. I asked:

"Why were you scared? You were so popular, plenty of confidence I bet." Rome grinned and put the photo back on the wall.

"On the outside maybe, yes. On the outside I was quite confident."

"Then who took the first step?"

"He did." Rome turned around and crossed his arms. I raised my brows.

"He did?"

"Yes. It took ten more years and a reunion, but then he was the one telling me that we had to do something before there were no more years to do anything in. And so we did." I leaned back into the sofa.

"Just like that?" I asked, and as he nodded, I sighed. "You should've done that ten years earlier." Rome leaned down and collected his empty coffee cup and my glass.

"We probably should. But one person has to take the first step for the other to follow." He held up the dirty service. "I'll just go and wash these off." I nodded, though it seemed silly. Everything else in this house was dirty, but he left for the kitchen, and shortly afterwards I could hear the sound of water running and glass hammering together in the sink. I moved to lie down on the sofa an looked up at the ceiling. It takes one person to take the first step for the other to follow. I understood his logic, but I wasn't sure I wanted to understand. There was no one whom I would like to take the first step towards, that's what I kept telling myself, but deep down I knew that there was one, just one single person in this whole damned nation whom I would love to take a step, two steps and a run for. And that person wasn't Evan.

Rome took a long time cleaning. Maybe he started on some of the other dirty things in the kitchen, I wasn't sure and I didn't really care. His story had got me thinking, and I rolled around on the soft pillows and tried to stop anything from going on in my mind. It would've been much easier if Rome had just told me that of course I wasn't gay. That I was just going though a stage. That I should take a cold shower and wait for the right girl to pop up. But I should've known that he wouldn't lie to me. He treated me like an equal, and had I told him even more about Alfred, he would've advised me even more precisely about what to do. But he knew that as long as I wasn't ready to tell, I wasn't ready to hear either, and so he'd kept quiet about certain things that I knew he wanted to say to me. I respected him dearly for that.

The shadows had stretched out. The morning had turned to afternoon, and I got up from the sofa and walked over to the one clean window in the room to look up at the sky. It had darkened, but even though it wasn't late yet, I knew I had to get home soon. Mom was probably already home from grocery shopping and wondering about what nasty things I was up to today since I wasn't at home. She'd pretty much given up on me by then, but though I tried to force myself not to care, I did a little anyway. After all she was my mother, and she carried a good heart. She just didn't always know how to distinguish between her desires and mine, and therefore we battled all the time, struggling for the chance to be right.

I smiled a bit as I realised just how silly that actually was, and I let my gaze slip from the sky to the graveyard. It was right on the other side of the street, and with the view cleared, one could look right through the fence to the tombstones. The one closest to the fence still had fresh roses around it, and I shuddered and crinkled my nose. Why would anyone like to live this close to such a place?

Rome came back into the room. I could hear his long, tired steps across the floor, and I turned around and looked at him. He was standing by the sofa. "I think I'll head home now," I said, and he nodded.

"If you ever need any advice, I'll be here." He smiled kindly at me, and I felt my heart warm up. I almost wanted to hug him, but something kept me from doing it, and instead I just nodded and scratched my arm.

"I'll remember that. Thanks for listening to me."

Rome followed me to the door. When I was about to open the front door, I turned around, suddenly reminded of someone.

"Where's Germania?" I asked, and Rome pointed towards the ceiling.

"He's sleeping." I nodded a bit and felt kind of dumb. I had been so caught up in my own story that I'd forgotten to ask him about Germania, and not even when I saw the picture of them in the living room I remembered. I opened the door.

"How is he doing these days?" I asked politely when I stepped outside. Rome leaned against the doorway. There was something strange about the way he smiled.

"I think he's doing a whole lot better than earlier," he said. The glimpse in his eyes made me hesitate a bit, but I smiled and nodded cheerfully.

"That's good to hear. Tell him that I said hello."

"I will," he promised. I thanked him again, then crossed through the garden and slowly started to stroll home. I was in no hurry. It was a warm afternoon, and I had my jacket zipped open. As I was walking, I remembered how Alfred and I had run down the very same road years earlier when Rome's shadow scared us. It made me snicker a bit. None of us had been very brave back then. I wasn't sure if any of us were today. Was I brave because I dared to dress up differently, or was Alfred brave because he was still my friend despite me changing?

I stopped up as I reached the supermarket. The little shop hadn't changed in all the years I'd lived in the city. Outside were the same benches at the same spot, and I went over and sat down on one of them. This was where Alfred and I mixed blood. I automatically looked at my thumb, but the cut had disappeared long ago, and I only had the memory left. It made me a bit sad. Did it even matter then? Could Alfred remember without a visible sign? I even remembered how we swore that our friendship would never end. "But look where we're heading now," I mumbled and shook my head. If one of us had to take the first step, why did it then have to be me? And what if I managed to take one step just to realise that Alfred was ten steps away from me? A shiver ran down my spine, and I jumped to my feet and started to walk home quickly. I tried to force the thought out of my head, but I had already thought it, and now it seemed stuck.

What if we were already too far apart to ever be able to reach each other again?

* * *

The next day Evan showed up. I was sitting in my room trying to draw a tattoo on my arm with a black ballpoint, but no matter how many times I tried, the dark unicorn just wouldn't look like a horse. I was desperately trying to put shadows on it when he opened the door and walked in.

"How're you feeling today, wimp?" he asked me and grinned. I bit down on my tongue and narrowed my eyes as I turned the ballpoint to the side to put a shadow around the eye of the unicorn.

"I am feeling alright," I said, and Evan dragged a chair over to sit next to me.

"Good," he said and looked at my arm. I put the ballpoint away and showed the drawing off to him.

"What do you think?" He sloped his head to the side and shrugged.

"Is it a rhino?"

"It's a unicorn."

"Okay. Nice." I didn't feel very neat after that, but I let it go and just pulled my sleeve down to hide the drawing. I noticed that Evan had coloured his hair purple, but I didn't mention it out loud. Instead I just pulled my legs up in the chair and hugged them to my chest as I looked at him. "So, what's up?" Evan swirled a lock of hair around his finger and slipped it behind his ear with a wink.

"There's a party tonight. Do you wanna come?"

"Where's it at?"

"I am not sure. But I can pick you up with my friend? We'll drive you back home again, so no worries." It had almost become a habit that one of Evan's friends would drop me off at my house whenever we'd been out together. I wasn't always sure whether they did it out of a good heart or because Evan demanded it of them, but I never asked either. This time was no exception. I'd been to so many parties that I didn't even worry about the details anymore. Who was going, who was throwing the party, how long would it last, was there any dress code? None of those things really mattered. So I just nodded.

"Okay, that sounds fine." Evan smiled a bit and ran his fingers through my hair. I quirked a brow at him. "Jealous at my delicious colour?" I joked. He laughed.

"Jealous at your delicious lips." Now I quirked both brows and frowned.

"That's stupid."

"Well.." We stared at each other. Evan licked his lips. I could feel that there was something that he wanted, but he just couldn't say it out loud. I noticed that he was getting closer, though. His head was slowly moving in towards mine, and I started to lean back in the chair until the backrest prevented me from going any further. Evan kept coming closer. I swallowed nervously and could feel my heart starting to beat faster, but it wasn't in a pleasant way. It felt as if it was getting my body ready for a run. My lips started to shiver the closer Evan's came to my own, and I was just about to say something when a door closed downstairs and mom's voice called for me. Evan fell back into his chair with an annoyed sigh, but I exhaled in relieve and got up to go to the door.

"I need to hear what's up," I said to him, and he just shrugged.

"Whatever. I am leaving." He jumped to his feet and slipped out of the door when I opened it. We both went down the stairs. Mom was standing in the kitchen while rummaging through a bag, but she looked up as I stopped in the doorway. Evan was behind me, putting on his shoes.

"Who's that?" she asked, and he straightened up and lazily saluted at her.

"Evan, ma'am." I could see my mom's gaze flickering when she caught a glimpse of the big military boots he was wearing, and somehow I felt a bit sorry for her. One thing was me looking odd, but to have odd friends walking around her home was probably pushing it a bit, so I tried to block the doorway to prevent him from talking any more to her. So far I had succeeded in only having him over whenever my parents weren't, and the only friends from school mom had seen were Toris and Heracles. She knew I hung out with others as well, but I think she could accept it as long as she didn't have to be confronted with them. But now she was getting dangerously closed to something she couldn't quite handle. She cleared her throat.

"Are you going out, Arthur?" she asked me, but before I got around answering her, Evan popped his head in under my arm and slipped into the kitchen.

"We're not until tonight," he answered, and Mom took a step away from him and started to look very concentrated as she pulled out teabags and biscuits from her bag.

"I believe I asked my son," she said, and the politeness in her voice was forced. I gave Evan's shoulder a slap, but he just grinned and leaned against the kitchen table while he watched her.

"I believe I answered anyway," he said provokingly. I bit my lower lip and watched Mom's brows knit together, but she took in a deep breath and started to put away the empty bags, hiding them underneath the sink.

"So you're a friend of Arthur?" she asked, and Evan nodded without looking at me.

"Yeah, a very good friend."

"Do you look out for him?"

"Of course," he said and looked back at me with raised brows. He was amused. I wasn't. My stomach was hurting. I couldn't figure out what Mom wanted to accomplish from this conversation.

"I think Evan is heading home," I said and gave him a stern look, but he just turned his back to me again.

"You don't do drugs, do you?" Evan whistled. Mom looked up at him. He hesitated, but then he shook his head.

"No, I don't. And Arthur doesn't either." She straightened up and ran her fingers through her messy locks. She looked tired.

"And you don't do anything illegal?"

"We don't even steal a condom."

"Do you use them?"

"What?" Mom leaned against the table and looked at him.

"Do you use condoms when with the girls?" A grin slowly spread across Evan's face. My heart skipped a beat, and I reached over and grabbed him by the jacket before he got around answering her. I dragged him out into the hallway.

"That'll be all, Mom," I said and opened the front door. Evan laughed uncontrollably.

"No, let me answer, Arthur, let me!" he giggled as if it was all just one big, fat joke. I shoved him out of the house, and he stumbled a few steps away, still laughing.

"Shut up!" I yelled at him and got out as well. I wasn't wearing any shoes, and I could feel the wet ground sticking to my socks. Still I shut the front door and turned to him with my arms folded. "I know what you were about to tell her! You could get me in so much trouble!"

"Why don't you just tell them?" he asked me and gave me a smirk. He stuck his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. "That you're happy and _gay._ " I sneered at him.

"You know why."

"I told my parents," he said and licked his lips. I took a step towards him.

"Your parents are stoned hippies anyway," I spat, feeling a frustration built up inside of me. Evan snorted.

"Be nice."

"You said it yourself - you told me your mom's a whore and your dad's a crack head."

"But they're not hippies." I stepped in closer to him. He stood still and looked me in the eyes when I pressed my hands flat to his chest. My cheeks must've been burning red with anger.

"Don't pick me up tonight. I am not going anyway," I said and gave him a push. He stumbled two steps backwards, but before I got to turn around, he grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back close to him.

"Why are you so upset? Relax, man," he sighed, but I slapped his hand away and backed away from him, giving him a warning look.

"It's not a fucking joke! If you'd told her, who knows what would've happened to me!" Evan shrugged. I felt the door against my back and turned around, but I didn't tug at the handle until I was sure Evan was leaving. He skipped through the garden with quick steps, but as I stepped inside again, he yelled:

"You have to tell them at some point!" I didn't answer. I just smacked the door shut and locked it before walking back out into the kitchen. Mom was making tea. She was sitting at the table waiting for the water to boil while flickering through a magazine. I leaned against the doorway.

"Sorry, Evan has got no manners," I said, and she just shrugged and flipped the page over. I hesitated and bit my lip. "He's a good guy, really.."

"I am just worried about you." She closed the magazine and looked up at me. Her pupils were shaking, and I swallowed harshly and looked away.

"O-oh?"

"I've tried to understand why you suddenly changed, but I haven't been able to."

"It's just my look," I said and scratched the back of my neck. "I'm still the same."

"You're growing up." She got up and pulled out two cups from the cupboard. I licked my lips slowly and looked down at my feet. The white socks had gotten dirty with mud from outside, and I awkwardly tried to step out of them without touching them.

"Everyone does."

"When I turned 15, I hung out with some girlfriends who were all very cool." I raised my brows and looked over at her. She placed the cups on the table and poured the boiling water up into a can. She didn't spill one drop through her focus was clearly elsewhere. "My mom was a very strict lady. You can't really tell today, but she set the rules and told me to behave. Be a good girl. Always listen to the men. I grew up believing women are less worth than any man in this world." I couldn't help but to smile a bit, and when she gestured for me to come closer, I took a seat and accepted the cup of tea she handed me.

"But that's silly," I said. Mom sat down next to me.

"Oh, that's what my new girlfriends told me. They were feminists. They fought for equality. It got very modern back then. Today a lot has been accomplished, and the few feminists left are grumpy lesbians." She took a sip of her tea. I hid a smile behind my cup. "But back then," she sighed and put down her cup, "it seemed like such a big step for me to take. To tell my mom that what she thought was wrong, and what she did was wrong, and that the way she lived was wrong! You don't go telling others that, but I did anyway. I knew I was right, and my mom was wrong, and when she ran crying to my dad, well," she shrugged, "I just told her that she was hiding her own strength behind his chubby frame. That they were old and worn out."

"That's mean," I mumbled. "You really told grandma that?" Mom smiled a bit.

"I did. And then I followed my new friends everywhere. We demonstrated, we wrote songs, we tried to stop pornography. We didn't succeed in much, but we had a lot of fun." She swirled her tea around in her cup. I leaned back in my chair and looked at her with patient eyes.

"Why are you telling me this?" She caught my gaze and held it as she slowly smiled and whispered:

"Because one day it all went wrong. A demonstration went wrong, and we ended up in a huge fight with those against us. I didn't want to be violent, Arthur, but I felt I had to, because all my girlfriends were. That day I was escorted home by the police, bloody and embarrassed." My eyes widened slightly, and I shoved my cup aside as I leaned in closer to her.

"Are you serious? You've been in a fight?" I asked. Mom hardly ever spoke of her past, and when she did, it was from the time when she met Dad. She never let me know about what kinds of things she experienced as a teen, and I think I just always imagined her as this stable, polite, good-hearted girl who did all the right things. Somehow it felt exciting that I had been wrong. Mom didn't look excited, though. She sighed as if she was sorry she had even told me, but still she couldn't stop herself from continuing. "What did grandma say?"

"She was devastated. She couldn't believe what I had done, and she made me promise never to do anything like it again. And I have never been in a fight since then." She took a sip of her cup. I wrinkled my brows.

"I am still not sure I get it."

"I worry for you," she repeated and put her cup aside as well. She turned in her chair and grabbed my hands and gave them a squeeze. "I know you think I am an old, boring mom, and maybe I am. Maybe I am like my mom. Maybe I just don't understand how important all," she looked at my hair, " _of that_ is to you. But I don't want to see you taking it all too far. I don't want you to end up in troubles." I swallowed and immediately chirped:

"I won't get into a fight." She shook her head.

"Who cares for fighting today? There are so many things that could go wrong. Drugs, pregnancy, robberies - you can ruin your future in one second, Arthur." Now she wasn't just squeezing my hands, but clenching them tight. As if she wasn't sure she ever wanted to let go of me again. I could feel my eyes watering. Was this why she'd been so worried all the time? Was this why she hadn't stopped me anyway? Somehow I found it heart warming that she was this concerned, because I had come to the conclusion that she really didn't care for me at all. But on the other hand it hurt to hear her speak those words. Didn't she trust me one bit?

I looked down at our hands. Mom's breathing had gotten a bit heavier. "I promise I'll be careful," I whispered, and mom let go of my hands and instead wrapped her arms around me. She hugged me close.

"I want to trust you," she whispered, "and I have to. Only you know about your own friends. Who they are, what they do, if they're good people.. But please," she said and let go of me again to look me in the eyes. "Please don't be blinded. Make your own, good decisions, and only do what you can be proud of afterwards. Okay?" I nodded and smiled, and I grabbed her jaw and pulled her head down so that I could kiss her cheek.

"Okay." She smiled, and I could feel her skin warming up underneath my lips.

"Thank you."

After our conversation I went upstairs to think about what Mom had told me. She really was looking out for me, just in a different way than I had first believed, and I sat down on my bed and decided that I would try to be a better son to her. I could start helping her out a bit more to show her that I wasn't heading for troubles, but that I was just expressing myself. I snorted and looked towards my mirror as I tugged at a green lock of hair. Expressing myself? I wasn't really sure anymore. Giving it a second thought; if it took dying for me to be myself, wasn't there then something wrong?

I spent the rest of that day cleaning up in my room. I came to find that Alfred had used the top-shelf in my closet to stash away his old, worn-out porn magazines. I pulled them down and looked at the front covers. All the women had big, round breasts and some sort of whorish look in their eyes. I crinkled my nose and wondered why this attracted him so much, and if it did, why didn't he hide the mags in his own room? "Probably because his mom would find them," I mumbled and smiled a bit. If my mom was a former feminist, then she was surely a current one. She hated pornography with all might, she hated men who dominated women, and she hated being told that she was wrong in any of her assumptions. Thinking about it, she hated everything but her own opinions. And me. Strangely enough, she had taken a great liking in me, just like Dad had with Alfred, but I don't think she ever told Alfred to go spent time with me like Dad had told me to do with him. She just seemed to lighten up whenever I came by. It was kind of cute, and that day I decided that I would also try to help her out more to show my gratitude.

* * *

The evening kicked in way too early. Mom made soup for dinner, but I had hardly gotten myself a bowl to fill before a horn beeped outside. I knew who it was even before I looked out of the kitchen window, but I wasn't exactly thrilled. Evan had come by with his friend to pick me up. Dad looked up from his soup when the horn beeped again.

"Who is that?" he asked.

"I don't know," I lied and grabbed a bowl from the cupboard.

"Isn't that how Evan's car sounds?" Mom asked, and I gritted my teeth together.

"Evan doesn't have a car, his friend does."

"Well, then tell his friend to stop beeping!" Dad said, the annoyance in his voice clear. He was stuffing soup into his mouth. It almost spilled down his chin as he hurried so to get as much as possible down in a few gulps. It looked horrible, and I felt my lust for food disappear. Mom put down her spoon.

"You were supposed to go with them to a party tonight, right?" she asked, clearly remembering what Evan said earlier. I nodded.

"But I don't want to go."

"Why not?" I shrugged.

"Just because.."

"Make him stop beeping!" Dad roared, soup flying everywhere. I grimaced and smacked my bowl down onto the table.

"Fine, I'll leave for the party," I said and went to the hallway. At that time I would've done anything to avoid a dinner with him in this kind of mood, so put on my boots and grabbed my jacket. When I left, Mom came to the front door.

"Have fun," she said and smiled at me, and I smiled back at her.

"Thanks, you too." I waved at her before leaping the rest of the way to the car. It was parked on the other side of the road. Evan was about to get out from the backseat, but when he saw me, he got back in again. When I sat down next to him, he smacked my shoulder harshly.

"What took you so long?" he asked. He was wearing a tight, black shirt with some skulls on it, jeans and big, purple boots. They matched his hair. I smacked the door shut, and the car immediately started driving.

"I told you not to come and get me," I said, but Evan just shrugged.

"Well, now you're here."

"Where's the party at?"

"Roderich's place." Roderich was Elizabeta's new boyfriend. He was a college guy, a classy man with a love for music, and he really wasn't one to throw a party. Especially not at the huge, flashy house his parents owned. But Elizabeta could make him do anything, probably because she was younger than him. I think he felt he had to let her win most discussions to keep her by his side. No one was really sure why they'd become a couple, but no one complained either. Roderich could afford the expensive booze and free cigarettes to all the guests, so his parties were always a success.

"Sounds good," I said. Evan placed his arm around my shoulders.

"Yeah, and tonight it'll be even better than all the other nights." I raised my brows and looked at him.

"How come?" Evan smirked. He pressed a kiss to my cheek and mumbled:

"You'll see."

* * *

I didn't come to see anything at first. Evan acted like he always did at parties; at first he was really interested in me, showed me around and introduced me to some of his new friends. But then he disappeared in the crowd and left me alone. It didn't bother me much, though, because I had gotten so used to it by then. I had learned not to be shy, and I could easily find someone to speak with or dance with, or I could grab myself a beer and just sit and watch people come and go. The house was huge, and there were girls from high schools and guys from colleges and youngsters from downtown. As the timers hit midnight, we had turned into one weird lot of individuals.

I had started to feel bored. I was sitting outside by the swimming pool where the pretty girls dressed down to take a swim, and the wallflowers looked more like walls than flowers compared to them. I felt sorry for some chubby girl who had been alone all evening while seeing all the guys she'd flirted with go down on other girls. I wondered if Alfred also went to parties with his girlfriend, and if younger, desperate girls flirted with him, just to see him turn his back to them and walk home with the same old Rachel. I wasn't really sure what Alfred did in his spare time when he wasn't with me. Had he ever even tasted alcohol? As children we sneaked into his dad's office and found a bottle of whiskey in one of the drawers. We both took a gulp of it, felt bad and put it away, but then spending the rest of that week bragging to the guys at school about how cool we were. But in the end he admitted to me that he didn't really swallow any of the liquid. He just acted as if he did with the bottle pressed to his lips. I'd been quite upset, because I took a huge mouthful and got stomach aches. I snickered at the memory, then grimaced as the chubby girl was pushed aside by one of the muscular guys. The party was turning into a club for the rich and pretty only, and I felt I didn't wanted to spent any more time there. So I got up and went inside to look for the front door, but as I was on my way past the kitchen, someone yelled my name. I stepped back and looked through the door. Out there a group of guys was standing. They were all holding some huge glasses with white liquid in them, and I noticed the bottle of vodka on the table.

"Want a taste?" one of them asked. I recognized him as one of Evan's new friends, but I couldn't remember his name. I shrugged. I wasn't really sure I wanted to get drunk together with someone I didn't know, but then someone stepped in behind me and gave me a push towards the group. "Come on," the same guy said and handed me a glass. I looked down into it. It smelled creamy. Dad had taught me that bad vodka smelled chemical while good smelled creamy, and I since none of the guys could afford the good bottles, I guessed they had robbed this one from Roderich's collection. Someone patted my shoulder.

"Try and taste it." I looked up at the guy. He was tall, muscular and had short, brown hair. He looked like some hockey goddess. He held his own drink forward. "We're all drinking the same, no worries. We've been drinking before you came." I guessed he was right. If anyone was going to be drunk, those would be the ones. So I put the glass to my lips and downed it in one gulp. It was pretty tasteless, but not bad, and as soon as I put down my glass, it was filled again. I looked a bit confused at it.

"I don't want to drink all by myself," I said and sent them a complaining look. They didn't hesitate one bit, but all just down their drink in one gulp as well. One of the guys snickered most of his out of the nose again. I didn't get what was funny, but the vodka seemed to be reacting with all the beer I've been drinking, so I just smiled funnily at him and emptied my glass.

"One more," someone said and filled my glass again. I noticed they were filling theirs with a different bottle, but the labels on them were the same. Still it left me wondering if they were hiding the better vodka from me. I didn't ask them, though, I just accepted a third glass and downed it while the snickering guy started to laugh out loud. One of the other guys kicked his leg.

"Shush," he hushed.

"What's up with him?" I asked and grabbed a hold of a chair. I had started to feel a bit dizzy, but it wasn't something unusual. I've tried it before.

"He's just drunk," one of the others answered. "Want another glass?" I nodded, but then held my hand over it.

"Wait a second, I need to go take a piss."

"Fine, then when you come back." I nodded and took the glass with me to the bathroom. It had been one of Dad's few advices to me; never leave a glass that you want to use again. You never know what they might put in it. I didn't feel that they were any danger to me, but still I clutched the glass tightly.

In the bathroom, things had started to fly a bit. I felt lucky I hit the toilet right, but when I was to wash my hands, I couldn't catch the soap. After having tried a few times, I just stuck my hands in underneath the cold stream of water and shook them dry in the air. I wondered what the time was. I wondered where Evan was. I suddenly remembered that I liked Spiderman when I was younger. Then some song came back to me. It went bum-bum-bum bum bum-bum. I couldn't remember the lyrics, though. I grabbed my glass from the sink and hammered the door open. I was getting tired. Giving it all a second thought, I didn't want any more vodka. I wanted to go home. I walked past the kitchen again to search for the front door, but I was recognized by one of the guys out there and he pulled me back in.

"You're not leaving, are you?" I nodded and clutched onto his arm. "You promised you would drink another glass." I grimaced. He sounded so saddened that I just reached out my glass and received another shot.

"Only one more," I said and looked at it. I felt like throwing it to the floor, but instead I threw it into my mouth and swallowed. Proudly, I smacked the glass back down onto the table. "Now I want to go home," I informed them and took a step to the side, but I was about to fall, and the goddess had to catch me. I looked up at him. He looked even better than before. He had some blurry, brown eyes, I noticed, and he was quite strong. Probably stronger than Alfred. He helped me back onto my feet.

"Are you alright?" he asked, but he didn't sound concerned. I took in a deep breath and waved my arm out as the laughing guy returned.

"I am fine," I mumbled.

"Can't take it?" the laughing boy asked me with his grin stuck close to my face. I smacked his cheek and grabbed the bottle of vodka out of his hand.

"Of course I can." He looked at his hands surprised. As if he couldn't really understand where his bottle had disappeared to. But when he noticed I was about to drink from it, he tried to steal it back from me.

"You can't drink of that! You have to drink of the other!" he said, and some other guy tried to get the bottle from me as well. I stumbled away from both of them and turned my back to them.

"Why? Is this vodka better than the one you give me?" I asked them, suddenly feeling very upset that they were trying to make me stop drinking. I didn't want to drink, but even less did I want to be stopped, so I pressed the bottle to my lips and gulped down three mouthfuls. My eyes widened in surprise. I pulled the bottle away from my lips and glared back at them. "This is just water!" I cried out. The laughing guy looked down and then he started to snicker again. The goddess smiled a bit, and some of the other guys started to clap their hands with a huge grin spreading across their face.

"We got you!" someone yelled. I threw the bottle to the floor.

"Fuckers!" I yelled and stumbled backwards, right back into the arms of Evan. I turned around and gave him a hug, pressing my face close to his shirt. I felt hurt, and I felt he had to comfort me.

"What's going on?" he asked, but before someone answered, he wrapped his arms around me and kissed my scalp. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I need to puke," I mumbled. My stomach had started to twist, and it probably was because I had just realised that neither of them had been interested in drinking and having fun with me, but was just using me as a silly excuse for making a joke. I didn't feel drunk though my head was spinning, but when Evan tried to pull me up into his arms, I just slumped lazily up against his body. He called out for one of the guys to help him, and some strong arms grabbed my legs while he took a hold of my arms, and I felt myself being lifted and carried down the hallway. I watched as we passed by a toilet. "It's in there," I whined, but Evan just kept walking until we reached a blue door. He elbowed it open, and all three of us entered a darker room. I closed my eyes and wrinkled my brows as a headache started rummaging somewhere in the back of my head, and I partly expected to be thrown to the floor and left alone, but instead I was placed on something soft, and my shoes and socks were gently removed. I opened my eyes again and blinked. "I need to puke…" I mumbled again. Everything had knotted up in my throat, and even if I had wanted to puke, I don't think I could've.

"You need to lie down," Evan said and dragged the jacked off of me. It wasn't until then I realised that I had been carried into a bedroom. The softness underneath me was a duvet. I sighed and turned to my stomach and pressed my face down into it.

"I need to puke," I mumbled again, but instead drew in a heavy breath and felt my body close down. Evan ran his fingers through my hair and pressed a kiss to my scalp again.

"I'll come in later," he whispered to my ear, and that was the last thing I heard before I blacked out.

* * *

I should've eaten before I went to the party. My stomach was filled with nothing but liquid, and when I moved, it was as if all my limps had turned into stone. I couldn't roll around properly, and in my sleep I felt cold and worried and bad. I dreamt about Mom. How she fought against some chauvinists, and I dreamt about Alfred, how he put his arms around me and started to kiss me. I sighed happily and turned to my back, imagining that the weight on top of me was Alfred, and the wet trails down my cheeks were his kisses and not my tears. But then I realised that I wasn't crying. I wrinkled my brows together and gasped loudly as I was ripped away from my dream, and slowly I opened my eyes. Someone was on top of me. I couldn't quite figure out why. I blinked and struggled a bit more, but then Evan's calming voice was heard.

"It's okay, Arthur. It's just me." I blinked confused and tried to lift my head, but groaned when a headache forced me to slam it right back down into the duvet. Evan was licking his was down across my cheek and neck, and I shivered, because it felt wet and cold against my skin.

"What're you doing?" I mumbled and reached around to get a hold of him. My hands caught a hold of his shirt, and I tugged at it. He sat up across of me and tried to remove my hands from his shirt, but my fingers were clutching tightly onto him. "What're you doing?" I asked him again, my voice raw from having slept. I wondered for how long I had slept. The room had been dark when we entered it, and it still was dark. I couldn't hear music playing anymore. Someone was snoring somewhere in the room. Evan leaned down to me and pressed his lips to mine.

"The party is over," he mumbled and lapped his tongue across my lips. I groaned and slapped at his head. He was getting too close for my liking. One thing was kissing my cheek or my scalp, but I didn't want his tongue all over me as if he was a dog and I his owner. I opened my mouth to protest, but instead he forced his lips onto mine again and fed me his fat tongue. It felt way too big in my mouth. He was doing everything too roughly. It was as if he was spitting into my mouth, and everything tasted of alcohol. I wriggled and tried to bend my knees, but he had all his weight placed on me. Instead I ripped my head to the side, and his tongue slipped out and across my jaw.

"Stop that," I said, a bit angrily, and I pushed my hands to his chest as I tried to shove him off of me. Evan sat up again and started to move his hands down my chest. It wasn't done gently, rather I felt as if he was pressing all air out of me, and when he grabbed around my groin, I started to struggle wildly. "I don't want that. Stop!" I hissed. He smacked my cheek.

"Quiet! People are sleeping," he whispered. I gawked as the hit made a pain throb through my cheek, and I pressed my hands more harshly to his chest and then started hitting it.

"Who do you think you are? Get off of me!" I cried with a raw throat. The snoring from below quieted down, and we both held out breaths until it continued. Somehow I wanted the person to wake up, and somehow not. I didn't want anyone to see me in this position. But I didn't want Evan to have me like this either. He stuck his hands down my pants and took a hold of my cock through my underwear. I whined loudly, he smacked me again, and I caught his thumb between my teeth and jammed them down onto it. He howled and ripped his hand away, but he still had the other down my pants. I think he tried to excite me by stroking my cock and fondling my balls, but instead I felt abused, and I was only becoming even softer. I took in a shaky breath and lied still for a moment while he kept fondling me, and I looked up at him with wet eyes. "I am not getting hard," I whispered. Evan removed his hand and instead started to undo his own pants.

"Doesn't matter, I'll be the one fucking anyway," he mumbled. I didn't quite get it at first, but when he turned me to my stomach, I suddenly got what he meant. This wasn't just about getting each other off. This was serious business, and I was not about to let him get away with it. I started kicking wildly in the air, and when he sat down across of my legs, I tried to get up by pushing my hands to the mattress. I could hear the rustling of his pants and a sigh. I looked over my shoulder to see him with his cock in his hands, stroking it to get it hard. He was all soft. I felt like laughing. I wasn't the only one drunk. He surely had had as much alcohol as me, and I knew he wouldn't be able to get it up. He gave it a few more tugs while I struggled to get free of him, and his heavy sighing turned into groans of annoyance as nothing really happened. "Damn!" he hissed.

"What a man - can't even get hard," I spat at him, and he grabbed my hair and slammed me face-fist down into the duvet.

"Shut up!" he cried. I couldn't breathe like this with my nose pressed down and my mouth covered with the duvet, and my heart started to beat faster as I feared he was going to choke me. But then he let go of my hair, and I turned my head to the side and took in a deep breath. I had started to droll. I could feel the spit slip down my lips, and my headache came back to haunt me. I didn't feel neat. I felt unattractive, drunk and in pain, and I wondered why someone like Evan would try to do anything dirty with me like this. I closed my eyes. Maybe I thought it was all a dream, but then I felt him pulling at my pants again. He probably thought I had fallen asleep, because he wasn't adding pressure onto my legs anymore, and I took the chance and swirled around, kicking him right between the legs. He still had his pants partly on, his cock was hanging out from his underwear, but when I kicked him, everything rustled back up and closed around the base of his cock. He cried out in pain and tumbled down from the bed, and I rolled to the side and fell to the other side. I was expecting the cold ground, but instead I landed on top of the hockey goddess from earlier. I elbowed him in the face as I struggled to get onto my feet, but as soon as I was up, I forgot all about him and just grabbed at the handle and ripped the door open. I could hear Evan coming back onto his feet and yelling something, but I didn't care. I stumbled down the hallway and blindly searched for a way out. Everything was quiet in the big house. A couple was sleeping tight on the floor, and bottles of beer were scattered everywhere. The lightning had been turned off, and I couldn't see. I stomped on somebody's head on my way, but as I finally found the door handle and got outside, I really couldn't care.

Relieve filled up my body as if I had just escaped from my own death. I was shaking, and I knew I was freezing though I couldn't feel it, because I was wearing no jacket, no shoes and no socks, it was in the middle of the night and the streets were shining wet from an earlier rainsquall. Still this was a greater comfort than what I could find inside the house, and I started to unsteadily leap my way down the street and away. I didn't know where I was, I had no idea in what direction my home was, and with no money on me I couldn't even buy myself a ticket home. But I didn't worry the least. I just leapt. And I kept leaping until my sorry body made me slump down on a bench, out of breath and shaking. I could still feel Evan's tongue in my mouth and his hands all over my body, and as I thought the situation through, I suddenly started to cry.

"I could've been raped," I howled to myself and started gasping for air.

I don't know for how long I just sat there, feeling heartbroken and used. A couple of cars drove past, but no one stopped to ask me if I was feeling alright of if I needed help. They probably all though that I was just some drunk, dumb child, and if they thought that, they were somewhat right.

I started to hate myself. How come I'd been so dumb? How could I believe Evan just wanted to be good friends with me and nothing else? Hadn't it been obvious all along what he really expected from me? Suddenly all the touches and small kisses didn't seem caring, but sexual, and I gagged in disgust.

Then I started to hate Evan and all the others. Elizabeta, she had known! She had tried to warn me, but why had she done it so subtle and not just said straight to my face what Evan wanted from me? This just proved that she cared more for him than me! Dickheads. All of them. I decided they weren't worth a penny.

But apparently they still thought I was worth something, because after a while of just sitting and thinking, a car stopped in front of me, and Elizabeta got out. I acted like I didn't see her, though she was standing right in front of me, but she just wrapped her arms around me anyway and hugged me tightly. "Evan told me what happened," she said and dug her nose deep into my hair. "I am so sorry, Arthur!" I didn't hug her back, I just wrapped my arms around my own shaking frame. She let go of me. "Arthur, are you alright?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked her.

"What?"

"You knew all along.." She took in a deep breath, but she didn't answer. I looked up at her with hateful eyes. "You knew this would happen." She looked away and hid her hands in the pockets of her jacket.

"It's none of my business."

"But it's my fucking business!" I yelled and stumbled onto my feet. As she still said nothing, I started to walk away from her. She followed me.

"Arthur! Arthur.. Okay, sorry, is that what you want to hear? Nothing happened!"

"Something could've happened!" I sneered and turned around. She looked at me with sad eyes. I looked back at her, disgust written all over my face. "He could've- … He could…" I couldn't make myself say it out loud. Elizabeta slowly gestured to the car.

"Should we take you home?" I looked down at my bare feet. I couldn't get home like this. I couldn't risk the chance of some psychopath picking me up, or even worse the police who would call my parents and let them know everything. Dad would die from shame. After having choked the life out of me, that is. So I nodded, and we silently got into the car. Roderich was driving. He didn't say a word when I sat in on the backseat, he just started driving in the direction Elizabeta told him to go. She only spoke when giving out directions, else we were all quiet. The ride seemed long and nasty. I was looking out of the window, and I didn't move one bit until the car stopped. I opened the door. "Are we still friends?" I heard Elizabeta ask me as I stepped outside, and I looked back into the car. She sighed. "We're not, right?"

"Tell Evan I never want to see him again," I said. "And the same goes for the rest of you. You can fuck off." With that I straightened up and slammed the door shut, and the car took off immediately afterwards. I grabbed around my head. I had just said goodbye to a potential boyfriend who turned out to be a rapist, all of my identity and all my friends from school. I had no one left.

Then I shook my head. It wasn't completely true. I still had one person left. I turned around and walked with quick steps past my house and over to Alfred's. There was still light on in his room. It didn't surprise me. He took a great liking in staying up late, either jerking off to porn or watching football from America. I grabbed a stone off of the ground and swung it at his window a bit too harshly. It hammered against the glass and jumped back down at me. I stepped aside to avoid it just when he opened the window.

"Arthur?" he said surprised and looked down at me. He was in his pyjamas. I could hear the television running in the background. He leaned out over the sill. "Man, you're not wearing shoes?" he said and blinked.

"Can I come in?" I asked. He nodded, and five minutes later I found myself sitting in his room, wrapped up in a blanket and with toilet paper rolled around my feet to stop the bleeding. Alfred had turned off the television and was sitting in front of me on the floor, staring up at me. Neither of us said anything. He cleared his throat.

"I guess you've just come back from a party?" he said and smiled a bit, but I just nodded without any amusement in my eyes. He looked down and scratched the back of his neck. "Hmm…"

"Parties suck," I said sternly.

"Didn't you go there with Evan?"

"Evan sucks," I said, and now Alfred really looked surprised. I wriggled my toes and sighed. "We're not friends anymore." He looked confused, as if he didn't know what to do, and he got up and sat down next to me.

"Can I do anything?" he asked, and I nodded and leaned my head against his shoulder.

"You can.." I felt my throat knot up. My eyes got watery, and I sobbed: "You can just hold me… a bit…" Alfred finally didn't hesitate. Instead he just wrapped his arms around me and hugged me close, and I hid my crying face to his chest. It always felt so wonderfully right to be in his arms that I could hardly believe it myself, and when he dragged me all the way up into his lap, I just followed along, wanting all the contact I could get from him. He sat up against the wall while he pressed me to himself. I could hear his heart beat, and feel his chest move up and down according to his breathing, and somehow it all made me calm down pretty quickly.

"Was he mean?" Alfred asked, and I couldn't help but to smile because of the silly word he used. Mean? That was quite an understatement! But I nodded.

"He was very mean."

"What a… fuckhead," Alfred said, using a word from television, and I laughed and straightened a bit up.

"Yeah, a true fuckhead."

"Dickhead."

"Cockhead." Alfred wiped my cheeks off with his hand, and I smiled a bit at him. "Can I sleep here tonight?" He nodded.

"Of course." He licked his lips. I watched his tongue run across his thin upper-lip before it disappeared back into his mouth. His tongue didn't look as fat as Evan's, and it didn't look gross at all. I closed my fingers around Alfred's shirt as I leaned in closer to him, bumping our foreheads together. Alfred's breath hitched.

"What are you doing?" he asked me, but instead of pushing me away, he put his arm closer around my waist. I wasn't sure of what to answer, so I said:

"I am taking the first step." Alfred swallowed harshly. I could hear how the spit was forced down his throat, and I sloped my head a bit to the side.

"What's the first step?" he asked me in a whisper, and I could feel his hot breath slip across my lips.

"This." I kissed him. I pressed my dry lips to his wet ones, and we both snapped in air through our nose at the same time. I had my eyes closed, but I could feel Alfred blink as his eyelashes fluttered across mine. But then they calmed down. His eyes closed, and he pressed his lips back to mine, returning my kiss sweetly. There was nothing sexual, erotic or forced about it. But nothing friendly either. This was something different, and I think we both liked it quite a lot.

* * *


	12. 12

I don't remember falling asleep, but I must've, because I was awakened by a sour smell. At first I thought Alfred had let me sleep in dirty bedding, because he wasn't exactly bothered by a compulsion to clean. But as I flipped over to lie on my stomach and heavily exhaled down into his pillow before breathing in again, I realised that the smell was my own bad breath. I groaned and crinkled my nose, but I didn't have the energy to fight my head up and away from the pillow. Instead I just lied there and wondered about how long it takes for someone to be strangled by a stink.

My whole body felt sore. I had been sleeping in my clothes, and the garment had cut its way down my flesh and left red lines all over my skin. My pants felt warm and heavy around my legs, and when I tried to kick the duvet off of me, I found that I couldn't be bothered to move. My feet stung, and it worried me, but then I remembered something about staggering around outside with no shoes on. Why had I been doing that? I could catch a cold! Those can be difficult to fight. Just like Evan. Recalling his name made a shudder run down my spine, and I didn't quite get it, since I normally felt joyful when thinking of him. But then I remembered his fat tongue invading my mouth, and his rough hands down my body, and his harsh slap on my cheek when I wouldn't lie still.

"Fuck…" I forced my head to the side and gulped in air. The memory made me feel like puking. Dear old Evan who should've looked out for me at the parties had ended up trying to make our friendship into more than just holding hands. He had had no right to touch me like he did, but on the other hand I felt it was my own fault, since it took me so long to figure out what he really wanted from me. There had been plenty of danger signals, but instead of acknowledging them, I closed my eyes and just went along with whatever felt good. That had now, ironically, left me to feel worse than ever.

A door smacked somewhere in the house. I could hear the faint sound of someone walking around downstairs, and I blinked and tiredly let my gaze slip around the room. Alfred wasn't here, so it could very well be him, but why had he gotten up and just left me here to sleep? What was the time? The sun was shining brightly outside. Though the curtains had been pulled as close as possible, a ray of light still felt in between the two blue pieces of fabric, lighting up a group of motes dancing around in the room. From the brightness of the ray I guessed it had to be early in the afternoon.

Though I remembered a lot, my memory of yesterday was still somewhat blurry, and I tried to fill in the bits of information that I needed to figure out how I ended up laying this sick on Alfred's bed. While I blankly stared at the motes, I recalled the kind smile on his lips as he wrapped my feet up in toilet paper. He'd made a joke about only girls bleeding, and I had politely scolded him for being inappropriate. Funny; I had been the drunk, smelling bastard, and still I had the courage to scold him. But maybe that was why he had been smiling so much. I wondered about how many told Alfred off on a daily basis. Probably very few, if any at all. Mostly he was adored, and though he didn't do well in all classes, he had that charming attitude that could make any teacher's heart melt. I did well in classes, but I was the serious, good student who, in the end, was a tad boring. Supposedly the teachers liked me because I was one of the few actually considering state school important, but deep inside I knew that though they praised my mind, they didn't appreciate my character.

So why did Alfred like me? Because I was boring? Or because I was one of the few not considering him a goddess? Why did he still go to the playhouse with me, why did he still come around to do stuff with me, why did he kiss me back when I claimed his lips? My whole body stiffened, and I blinked slowly. We had kissed. How could I forget? We had kissed!

The night returned to my memory, and suddenly it was as if I could still feel Alfred's warm breaths on my lips. I could feel his fingers digging into my shirt and dragging me closer, and I could hear the little sigh escape from him when we parted. I could smell him. The sweat and cheap cologne at his chin, and when I licked my lips, the faint taste of chocolate left me hungry for more. He had given me such a curious look afterwards, and I had grabbed at his cheeks, squeezed the soft skin between my fingers and then smiled oddly. He'd asked me something, but I never caught the words, because I had thrown myself to the floor, grabbed his bin and vomited down into it.

I snatched the pillow and forced it down onto my face. No wonder my breath smelled! My mouth now felt as a huge, infected bin in itself.

The door into the room opened. I stayed still as someone quietly slipped through the room. My throat had knotted up, and the more I pressed the pillow down onto myself, the more my eyes watered, and in the end I had to lift it a bit to peek out at the person. Alfred was bending over, placing a freshly washed bin on the floor. My cheeks heated up. "Shit," I mumbled. He swirled around at the sound and stared at me. I started back at him from just above the pillow. I couldn't really pretend to be asleep now, so though my whole face was probably red with embarrassment, I let the pillow drop to the floor and turned to lie on my side. "Hey," I mumbled. Alfred straightened up.

"Hey." I licked my lips, and he awkwardly scratched his arm. His gaze flickered around the room, but after a while it returned to me, and he cleared his throat in clear discomfort. "How're you feeling?" I shook my shoulders a bit and tugged the duvet up underneath my chin.

"My mouth stinks," I said honest. A cheeky glimpse came to his eyes.

"I noticed yesterday," he said, and my eyes widened.

"You noticed?" I repeated, and Alfred suddenly looked like someone who wanted to regret his words, but it was too late. I flopped over to lie on my back so I could stare up at his ceiling. His lips tasted of chocolate, and I tasted of vodka and puke. What a perfect first kiss. I bit down on my lower lip and closed my eyes with a groan. I could feel the headache from yesterday return to the back of my head, but it wasn't as strong as I would've expected. I had probably slept for a good while before Evan tried to get dirty with me, and the worst part of the hangover had been acted out already. Still Alfred sat down on the edge of the bed and swiped his fingers across my forehead.

"You feel warm - should I get you some water?" I shook my head and tiredly looked up at him.

"But I'll need a bath soon. Why am I in my clothes?" Alfred slipped his fingers across my forehead again, and they dropped to my cheeks which he gently stroke.

"You passed out, man. You bawled about vodka and someone getting what they deserve, and then you dropped to the bed, asleep." He lightly tapped my nose with his forefinger, but then he looked away and mumbled: "I couldn't really take off your clothes, I mean… It would look… _wrong_ , right?" I closed my eyes and knitted my brows together in concentration. I wasn't sure whether I was repressing laughter or crying, but in the end I just nodded lightly.

"Right," I agreed. "It would look wrong." We fell into silence. Alfred was studying his bookcase as if he had never seen it before in his life, and I messed around my mouth cavity with a finger to see how badly I smelled. My teeth seemed slimy. I withdrew my finger with a pop and slammed it down onto my chest. It made him shortly peek at me, but only for a second. I figured he was more confused about what to do than I was, but at the same time I felt as if he had to be the one speaking up for once. I had taken the first hard step, but I couldn't keep dragging him with me. He had to stand on his two feet and look at me and speak to me.

But that was wishful thinking. Alfred kept looking at his bookcase, and I kept looking at him for an answer. But an answer for what? Obviously about what was going to be of us now. But did I really want to know? I wasn't even sure I was ready for this to go anywhere. I liked being with Alfred and touching him, and I still longed for yet a kiss from him. But he was straight. He was popular and a shining idol among the girls, and I realised that I couldn't be selfish and claim him in any way, because that would definitely ruin his reputation. I could handle being the little, unpopular oddball, but for Alfred that wasn't even an option.

All these thoughts went through my head as I lied there and watched him, and it made my stomach all weird and rumbling. I was only 15, but still I was left to take care of something that felt like too big of a responsibility for me. All other 15-year olds went out and got girlfriends and hobbies and just lived life. It was unfair I couldn't do the same. I couldn't just grab Alfred's arm and claim him as my boyfriend. And now I couldn't claim him as a friend either. We were surely something in between, but was that even possible, and did such have a name? I felt an anxiety creep through my body as I realised that taking a step had left me without a map to follow. When we were just friends, I knew exactly what to do. I know how friends act around each other, and I know how lovers act around each other. But I don't know what kissing friends do.

I cleared my throat. Alfred willingly turned to look at me at that. I looked him in the eyes and cleared it again. "So… you and Rachel," I said, and the excitement in his eyes weakened. He pushed his glasses further up his nose.

"Yeah, maybe we-"

"-should stay boyfriend and girlfriend." He blinked. I stretched my lips to a fine, straight line on my face and slowly nodded. "Wouldn't that be for the best?" He hesitated for some long, painful seconds, and I almost felt like yelling '..not! It was a joke!', but then he sighed and gave in.

"I guess." He grimaced. The light fell across his upper-lip. The down looked so soft, and I wanted to touch it, but my fingers curled together against the palm of my hand. I had to be strong. Alfred dragged his legs onto the bed, and he turned over and settled astride of me, the duvet keeping out bodies apart. He had dressed in a pair of loose sweatpants and an oversized shirt. He looked like a boy trying to be a man, and when I caught a glimpse of my own reflection in his glasses, I wondered what I looked like to him. "But, we can still hang out, right?" he asked shyly and leaned down to hover above me. I sucked in my lower lip and nodded with my eyelashes fluttering everywhere.

"Yeah… Of course…" His elbows dug into the mattress, one on each side of my head, and he was now so close that once again I could smell the chocolate in his breath and see the deep care in his eyes. I tried to swallow a knot that had built up in my throat, but instead I gagged on it. Alfred licked his lips. I could hear how his spit was dragged out of his mouth and across his lips to make them glossy. He smiled now.

"Can we also… uhm…" I sucked in air through my nose.

"Can we…?"

"You know… Like yesterday…"

"When I was in-"

"-my lap, yeah. And I was-"

"-holding me…" My hands slipped to his red cheeks. I could feel the blood pulsating in them, and I realised that he was shaking a bit. He was nervous, worried for my response, and there was no coolness to him now, none of that arrogant, popular boy-attitude. I told myself not to care, and I told myself to stay strong, but still I pulled his face closer until our lips slipped against each other. This time I didn't close my eyes, but I kept staring right into his while our lips sloppily moved. We kept our mouths shut, and I was thankful, because I knew how the inside of my cheeks felt and tasted right now, but like this it was perfect. Alfred's glasses slipped down his nose and bumped to mine, and I couldn't help but to grin and push them back onto him. Alfred gasped in a weird breath. "We can't tell anyone," I whispered.

"It's like the shack," he said, "it's a secret." I shook my head.

"No, Alfred, it's not like the shack. This is really serious. We can't tell anyone," I repeated, and his eyes got a bit glossy in worry, and he looked away. His fingers crumbled the sheet.

"It's not wrong, right? I mean… We're not… I am not a fa-… I mean…" Alfred was clumsily searching for words that could describe his feelings, but he rarely had to express anything with other than but his body, and so he couldn't do it right. I could feel the annoyance emerging from him, and I could feel how he was tearing up at the thought of being, in his words, a _faggot_. It hurt my heart, but I knew that this was probably the only word for it that he was familiar with. In his world there were men who liked girls, and men who were faggots. The first was a common choice, the second was a frightening possibility for the few who caught the disease of the homos. I shook my head.

"You're fine," I said, but then I corrected myself: " _We're_ fine. Do you remember your infomercial lady?" Alfred smiled funnily.

"That was ages ago."

"But she was right. Sometimes boys do stuff that is different but feels good, and it's not wrong. We don't go telling everyone about it. We just do it in secret." He seemed to lighten up at that.

"Yeah, you're right. Yeah… Like looking at porn." I nodded. He sat up straight and sighed as if he had just lost seven pounds and was now ready to celebrate his victory. I licked my lips before wiping them off in the back of my hand.

"I would really like a bath now," I said. Alfred climbed down from me.

"Should I prepare one?" he asked, but I kicked the duvet off of me and sat up with a groan.

"No, I'll just take a shower. Do you have any clothes I can borrow?" Alfred went over to his closet, and I got onto my unstable legs and sighed at the feeling of my body being stretched out properly. Everything in me hurt, and I felt a bit strange, as if I was feeling fantastic and awful at the same time. I grabbed at my sweaty shirt and ripped my armpits free of it while I went over to Alfred. He handed me a pair of boxers, some jeans and a shirt. I knew it would be too big for me, but I didn't care. I grabbed it and hugged it closely as if his property had suddenly turned into gold. He jiggled on the spot.

"Will you be fine?" he asked me, and I sent him a suspicious look. He turned red. "I-I mean, don't collapse out there…" I stepped over and stomped on his foot, and he skidded two steps back with a little whine. He glared at me while he grabbed his foot between his hands, hopping around on one leg. "What was that for?" he yelled. I smiled as kindly as I could manage.

"Don't worry," I said and hugged the clothes closer. "We'll work something out between us." He dropped his foot to the floor and stuttered:

"I knew that!" but the appreciation in his eyes was clear. I went to take my shower while trying not to think of anything at all, and when I came back, he was sitting watching football on his bed. He was about to turn the channel off when I entered, but I quickly sat down next to him, pulled my pants up and then grabbed around his wrist. He looked down curiously, but I kept my gaze fixed on the screen and the big men rolling around on the ground to get the ball. I gave his wrist a tug, and he smiled and looked at the television as well, and though it was a very simple gesture, I think we both found it quite alright that way.

* * *

The rest of the summer we couldn't keep our hands off of each other. Unless I met up with Toris to do something, or Alfred went somewhere with Rachel, we would 'by coincidence' run into each other and end up somewhere with our arms around each other and our lips touching. There was something needy about the way we inspected each other's faces, and still it was all very innocent as we didn't undress or felt up our bodies. I think we didn't even consider that possibility. Sometimes we would get hard, and I would lie on top of Alfred and feel his bulge poking up at me, but neither of us would try to make the other reach down and do the job. Somehow it wasn't necessary yet. We could do that ourselves afterwards. I don't know what thoughts Alfred had about it, or if he was considering it being too _gay_ to get that close, but for me it was all about keeping that fine line between lust and reality. There were a lot of things I wanted from Alfred, and a lot of things I wanted to do to him, but I restrained myself and instead jerked off when alone. It might sound odd as we had touched before, and it hadn't even been a week since I jerked him off in the shack, but moderation had suddenly become important to me. I didn't want to go too fast, because suddenly there wouldn't be any steps left, and maybe Alfred wouldn't find it exciting anymore and go back to his straight-world. I think I worried a whole lot, and often without reason, because there were no signs Alfred was losing interest in me. Rather the opposite!

At first he was able to keep a long conversation going before we started getting close, but as summer headed towards an end, I would hardly have closed the front door to his house before his lips connected with my ear, my nose or my lips. He would pull me up the stairs to his room in such a hurry that one could be fooled to think that we really did have sex, but the routine was the same. We held each other, we kissed, sometimes we parted to calm down, and then we did something friendly, like watched a movie or read a comic or talked about stupid things like the perfect colour for a beanie. But I was never bored. Not for one second did I want anything but what I had, and every time I felt his wet tongue pet at my lips, and I was able to look into his blue eyes, I felt such happiness that it was silly.

I wasn't in love. I don't think I was. People always want to romanticise relationships, and I think that's a tad sad. I wasn't sure what kind of feelings I really had for Alfred, but I was sure that I liked him a whole lot in one way or another, and that I had almost a desire for being with him every second of my day. I won't call it being in lust either, because it wasn't long ago I discovered my sexuality, and it was just months ago I finally became comfortable enough to admit to myself that I was gay. But I had always been fascinated with Alfred, because he was everything I wasn't, and exactly that made him extremely charming. He was more than his body, though I had the most focus on that, but comfortably I think he felt just the same away about me. I just was never sure, since I never asked, and he never proposed a question to me either. We had silently agreed on not to do that. This summer should be all about enjoying, because school with its reality check wouldn't be hiding its ugly face for much longer.

That Tuesday morning I had counted it to being eight days of vacation left, and it had quickly made me put on some random clothes and hurry across the hedge to Alfred. He was waiting for me right in the hallway, and as soon as the door shut behind me, he cupped my face between his hands and kissed me warmly. He tasted of coffee, and I harshly grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him backwards.

"Are you growing up?" I joked and carefully stumbled up the first step. Alfred opened his mouth, and I lapped my wet tongue across his taste buds to gather the sense of coffee. He was chuckling into my mouth.

"Mhmm.."

"You need a shave." I grabbed him by the chin. He was growing hair like some caveman, and I could feel the rough stubbles underneath my fingers. Alfred tried to press his face forward and back to mine, but I swirled us around so I was the one backing up the stairs while I kept him at a distance with my fingers around his chin. I smirked. The many days with Alfred had certainly given me a boost of confidence, and instead of feeling shy and timid about it all, I had started to get the upper-hand in some way. I didn't always let him know; I liked having him ravishing my face, and so I often acted as if he got me knocked to the bed and taken under his care, though it was all part of my plan. I felt sneaky. I liked it a whole lot.

"You need your hair messed up," he said and sped up, making me almost fall across the steps, but I managed to make it up and to his door. I blindly searched for the handle behind me, caught it and let us in. The room had been heated up, and I was about to thank him for considering me being sensitive to cold, but by that time he'd gotten free of my hand and was now the one keeping my face in place between his bigger hands, and I willingly let him lick my lips and search my mouth for the taste of tea, candy and toothpaste. We were still somewhat clumsy, and especially Alfred had a hard time controlling how much to open his mouth, and sometimes I felt as if I was being swallowed by him. I clumsily turned my head to the side and felt embarrassed as a string of spit escaped the corner of my mouth, and I shortly moved back to wipe it off in my shirt.

"On the bed," I said, and Alfred obediently sat down on it and waited for me to climb his lap. I did shortly after. I sat astride of him and wrapped my fingers around his shoulders. We had gotten better at it all. The first few times we made out on the bed, we rolled off of it by accident or bumped our heads up against the wall or the headboard. The worst day was when Alfred almost sprained his ankle when I heavily slammed my knee down onto it. He had been rock-hard when I moved around on top of him to angle the kiss better, but his erection had vanished when I hit him the wrong place. Worse, though, I consider the incident when his knee got jammed up between my legs. But afterwards we kindly promised each other never to speak of that incident again. Still he kept an eye on his legs whenever I came near his knees.

Today, though, he was already hard and not going down easily. When I put down all my weight onto him, I was jerking my groin against his hard member standing clearly in his sweatpants. I nipped at his lower lip with my teeth and smiled as I rolled my hips up against him and received a little gasp. His fingers closed around my sides, and he tried to set a steady rhythm to me wriggling around in his lap, but I wasn't eager on being controlled. Soon I found myself on top of him instead, jerking unsteadily down onto him while my lips slipped all over his face. It was a wet and messy kiss, and when he stuck out his tongue, it didn't even hit my mouth but rather plunged into the sides of my lips. The warm muscle was exciting, though, and I easily angled my own head and closed my lips around his tongue to let him inside of me.

Alfred was breathing quickly in and out though his nose, making loud noises, and my heart was beating just as fast, sending a steady drumming down his body. His hands were in my hair, tugging at the locks and messing them up until I looked horrible. But apparently he liked it. He ran his tongue flat across the upper of my mouth and gulped my tongue back with him into his own mouth, and I pressed his head back down into the mattress as I willingly complied with his wishes. It was no give-and-take situation, because we were both giving and receiving at the same time. There was no separation between his enjoyments and mine, and I felt so very free when I could just drag my fingers deep into his baggy shirt and tug at it, a little gesture that begged for him to go more harshly on me. Our groins were rubbing frantically against each other, and I could feel how my own cock had swollen from the attention. I had to move back from Alfred's lips and gasp in air to be assured my brain wouldn't go down, but Alfred teasingly dragged my face down so he could lick and bite at my ear.

"Dear lord," I mumbled and closed my eyes as his tongue dug into my ear, and my Adam's apple started bobbing quickly in excitement and my lack of breath. When I disorientated pressed a kiss to Alfred's cheek, I could feel how it was all hot, and he was working himself close to climax. We were too young to last for long, and even the littlest touch made us excited, and soon Alfred decided that he couldn't last any longer, so he grabbed my body and easily slammed it down next to him in bed, just before he would've come. He gritted his teeth together and started swearing underneath his breath while he scratched the area around his cock, and I breathlessly lied there and looked at him, my cheeks pulsating and my lips dripping with his spit. I was excited about it all, even the wrinkles of struggle and bother on his face. To me he was sexy even when grimacing out his anger.

"Oh man, oh man," he was breathing, and his fingers slowly crossed his erection. Then they just rested there. I was avoiding any contact with my own cock, but it was pulsating and complaining between my legs. I slipped my arm over across Alfred's chest, and he turned his head to look at me, his blue eyes still filled with a need for more though he knew it was better stopping now.

"School soon starts," I whispered, because I didn't know what else to say, and he ran the palm of his hands flat down my cheek.

"We can still do this after class," he said. I closed my eyes shortly and took in a deep breath. My nostrils widened, and my cock once again twisted in need of attention.

"What about Rachel?" Alfred gave it a ponder. I just lied there with my eyes closed until he dragged his leg across of mine and gently pressed our groins together.

"When we get around Christmas time, I'll break up with her. Before next year starts," he said, and I grinned and gently slapped his cheek.

"Mhmm, you're so mean," I mumbled, but I didn't even care. Alfred kissed my lips, and I accepted his sign of affection like a love-hungry animal. Maybe I was in love after all. I just wasn't sure what to do with my feelings. Maybe that's the actual reason why I couldn't allow for us to come while together like this. I was afraid what I would feel, if I would feel anything at all, or if I would become attached and start acting like Rachel, all clingy and annoying. So I kept a distance to him, never considering what kind of feelings I was bringing forward in Alfred. I was young and naïve, because in the end I was making Alfred the attached one by playing my own secret game.

* * *


	13. 13

Mom was the first one to notice that anything had changed, but it wasn't about my relationship to Alfred. "Your hair is no longer green," she said one day as I was making tea in the kitchen. I gave her a little smile and tightened the red scarf around my neck.

"That's right."

"How come?" she asked and leaned against the table. I shrugged.

"I don't know."

"Well, it fits you." She gave my shoulder a friendly clap before she went to grab some food from the fridge. I watched her as she carefully picked out things for lunch. Had it been just a few weeks earlier, she would've demanded an explanation for every little change that happened to me, but these days her mind was so filled with other worries that she didn't take much notice of me. She was about to lose her job. For years she'd worked as a cleaning lady at the care home by the school, but it was a small place that was considered too expensive to run, so now they were going to close it down and let the new, larger home in the city take over the residents. No one could guarantee her work at the new place, so she was desperately rummaging through the job market without luck. She had very little education, and she was scared of trying something that she'd never done before. 'What if I am not good enough?' she always asked, but no matter the reassuring answer we gave her, she kept worrying.

Dad couldn't stand seeing her unhappy. He could learn to accept most things in life, but not the breakdown of his wife, and only a week after she'd been sitting sobbing during breakfast, he'd taken on extra work. He was a carpenter, and therefore work wasn't something he could plan, but, as he said, if you don't fear the moonlight, you'll always be able to get a job. As he began to disappear at weekends, I never asked where he was. What the government doesn't know will not hurt our savings.

Somehow all these troubles had come along very suitably for me. With their time solely focused on work, neither of them noted that I didn't spent my days with Evan anymore but Alfred. That I had stopped colouring my hair green was only the tip of the iceberg, but as long as Mom didn't decide on taking a dive to look further into it, I felt safe and happy.

It quickly turned out that it was harder for Alfred to keep our escapades a secret. His dad was a personal trainer who went to work at seven in the morning and came home around five, while his mom often had the evening duty at the hospital, meaning that she left around two p.m. and returned early at night. That left us with three hours to fool around in in the afternoon without neither of them noticing, but in the heat of the moment even I found it hard to count the hours, and more than once I had to flee from the living room to the bathroom to hide an obvious erection when his dad suddenly slammed the front door open. Once we had entangled ourselves so badly in a blanket that as I heard the door being opened and tried to roll off of Alfred, I dragged him down with me, and his dad found us fighting with red faces on the floor, both trying to get on our feet. When he asked us what was going on, Alfred told him a long story about how a million unfortunate events had brought us into this situation. In the end his dad left us alone, but not without raising his brows in a suspicious manner only I managed to see.

"I think he's onto us," I hissed into Alfred's ear as we hurried back up the stairs to his room, but I only received an odd look back.

"No way, he believed my story."

"Your story sucked!"

"I _do_ believe blanket-fighting is going to surpass wrestling some day."

"You used to believe Superman was real."

"Shut up." I slammed my hand to his door and gave him a grin.

"Make me." And he tried to, but it was always quite a challenge. I don't consider myself a loud person, but we easily got so into each other that we forgot about the sounds we were making, but we just couldn't ignore that when his parents were in the house. We never discussed what could happen if we were to be found out, supposedly because we feared the consequences so much that we didn't dare to think them through. I wasn't sure what Alfred's parents would think of all of it, but even less did I know about my own. Dad always told disgusting stories about gay men, and I knew he wouldn't approve of me being something that he had always considered a joke, but on the other hand I couldn't decide whether he would exclude me from the family or blame it all on society. One never knew with Dad.

Though we had our worries, we couldn't keep our lust down to three hours a day, but staying at my house was an impossibility, since my parents came and went following no regular schedule. Therefore we ended up at the weirdest places just to get some time alone. Sometimes we found peace in the shack, other times in the old bike shed by the school, and once or twice we got so desperate that we walked far out across a grass field and lied hidden by the lonesome bushes. I think Alfred's parents noticed that he had started to spend time with his old playmate again, but when out of sight they could only ponder about what we were up to. Luckily, Alfred's mom had never lost faith in me despite my change in appearance, so though we one day returned to dinner all dirty and with grass in our hair, she didn't question what we'd been up to. Rather she was happy to have me around again, and one day she even pulled me aside and hugged me, whispering:

"It's good to see you back." It got me emotional, but in the good way, and I proudly beamed to Alfred about being a true dream for any mother-in-law. He didn't find it funny though. He was still very focused on being with me but in a non-gay way. I had a feeling that he very well knew that what we were doing wasn't considered straight, but as long as I didn't say anything, he was just the innocent, naïve lad. It annoyed me in the way that I had started to feel very secure about my sexuality, and I wanted for him to just know what he wanted as well, because he had always been the one with all the right answers. But on the other hand that was exactly what made me love his insecurity; finally _I_ got to be the know-it-all sexuality-expert, and I could take the lead and draw the map just as it fitted me. If there was something I was nervous about, I just had to explain it in a way that made my nervousness seem non-existent, and Alfred would believe my word right away. So whenever he was about to slip his hand to a part of my body that I didn't want for him to touch yet, I simply reminded him that doing something like that was _so gay,_ and he would immediately stop. If I later on wanted for him to touch me anyway, I just changed the rules slightly and said stuff like:

"But it's only gay if you do it while kissing."

I was aware that I was abusing my power as the leader in our relationship, especially as I didn't knew anything about most of the things I made myself an expert in. But at the same time I knew that handing over any responsibility to Alfred would be a grave mistake.

Alfred was popular, but that didn't mean that he really had that many social skills. He couldn't tell the difference between a girl who liked him for his personality, and one who liked him for his popularity, and he had no idea about the appropriate way to behave in most situations. He was charming as hell, and that saved him most of the time, but when it came to understanding other's feelings, he was completely lost. I think that's why he couldn't see the trouble in breaking up with Rachel just days before Christmas - or even the trouble in postponing the break-up though he already knew he wasn't going to stay with her. Therefore I found it wise to keep myself as the leader as I discreetly guided Alfred through the life of a non-gay gay-kisser.

* * *

Summer came to an end. On our last day off we were sitting sheltered by the bike shed as the rain was pouring down like mad. I was sitting on Alfred's bomber jacket which he had spread out on the ground, and he was leaning up against a pole while looking through a book he should had spent the break reading. He was turning the pages too fast to really grasp the meaning of the words, but apparently he found that even holding the book had to be work enough in itself. I was watching him as his face turned from curios to bored to almost angry as the book just kept on going. I stretched my arms above my head and then tried to fix my messy hair. As we first arrived, Alfred had harshly pushed me to the side as he heard someone coming, and I had slipped and hammered my head into the ground, getting dirt and cigarette buds rubbed all over my hair. It turned out that what he'd heard was just a stray cat running around in between the bikes. It was now sitting next to Alfred as it was playing with his shoelaces. It reached its paw a bit too far up, and Alfred cried out as a fit set of claws dug into his leg. He stumbled over to me, scaring the cat out into the rain with his sudden movements, and I watched it flee around the school while he sat down next to me with a heavy sigh.

"I am going to fail English again this year," he announced me, and I took the book from him and turned it over to the back cover.

"Why did you start reading it this late?"

"Come again?" I looked at him. He pursed his lips and made a nasty kissing-sound, and I grinned and gently smacked his cheek with the book.

"If you'd told me that you needed to do homework, I would've kept it down."

"Don't you need to do your homework too?"

"I already did it all." Alfred gawked. I straightened up proudly and stretched my legs. "Yes, I am just that smart, Al."

"When did you do it?"

"When you were busy with Rachel."

"But when I was busy with Rachel, you were busy with Toris?"

"Yeah, I did it with him." Alfred glared at me. I glared back at him. He clearly couldn't comprehend that anyone would meet up to do homework. It made me ponder: "What were you doing when with Rachel?"

"Uh, stuff."

"What stuff?"

"Like, watching television and playing games and talking." Alfred scratched his arm. He was clearly not keen on this subject, and I bumped my shoulder to his and slowly pursed my lips, making a long, wet sound. He laughed and shook his head. "Not that."

"Are you sure?"

"Maybe a little.."

"Hmm.." Alfred took the book back from me and started to go through it again, his cheeks very red this time. I wasn't sure what to say. I wasn't surprised that he had kissed her, not even that he still went around doing it, but still I felt a bit betrayed. Alfred wasn't my boyfriend, and I wasn't sure if I wanted him to be one, since I really liked being his best mate, but I had to make sure that I was his first priority anyway. I slipped my hand up across his leg and rested it on his knee. He peeked down at it and swallowed. "So you kiss her," I said, and he kept saying nothing. I gave his knee a light squeeze. "Does she make you hard?"

"I don't want to talk about that," Alfred mumbled and pushed my hand away. I took in a sharp breath through my nose and turned to face him fully.

"Why not?" Alfred started to move away from me. I grabbed his sleeve and tugged him back. "You're my best friend, come on! I didn't think we had secrets?" I was pressurizing him. He dropped his book to the ground and instead dug his fingers into the sleeve of his jacket. He looked like someone who desperately needed something to hold on to. I leaned in closer. "Al…"

"Not really," he whispered, and relieve went through my body in a happy heartbeat.

"Oh…" Alfred sat back in close to me, but he didn't look at me. He kept his gaze fixed on the ground.

"I still like my magazines," he said, and I raised my brows.

"What?"

"I like boobs and all the stuff between the legs, you know? It makes me hard. But Rachel doesn't. She's cool. But she doesn't make me hard." I sloped my head to the side as I tried to make sense of it.

"So you like girls, but not Rachel."

"I just don't want to touch her that way."

"Do you want to touch other girls that way?"

"I don't know.. Do you?" He looked me straight into the eyes, and I felt myself speechless for a moment. I wasn't sure what to say. How much had Alfred figured out about me? I wasn't sure what he thought I was, or what he thought I felt for him, and I suddenly felt very warm in worry. I grabbed at my shirt and tried to wave sweat off of it.

"Sometimes," I lied, and Alfred lit up into a smile.

"Yeah, sometimes I want to as well." I felt like a nasty, little liar. It only got worse. "How about with other boys?" he asked. My mouth went completely dry.

"You tell me," I whispered hoarsely.

"No, you first," he said sternly. I bit my lower lip.

"I-uhm…" I had no idea what would be the right answer. No matter what I said, I had the risk of Alfred not being honest with me, and I was immediately curious for if he ever jerked off thinking about a cock that wasn't mine. If I said no, he surely wouldn't admit to liking boys as well, but if I said yes, would he be honest with me or just look at me disgusted? I gasped in air. "Sometimes," I answered again, well aware that I was just stumbling my way down this odd road, but Alfred didn't find my answers off. He just nodded.

"Me too, sometimes," he admitted. I nodded. Then there was a solid silence. I listened to the rain hitting the roof above us, and Alfred seemed to find peace in his book once again. I was confused. Did this mean that Alfred played for both teams? Somehow I had come to believe that I was just a special case for him. Like if you normally like vanilla ice cream and then suddenly get a lump of chocolate into your mouth and realise that it's pretty good, just as long as you're not fed it too often. But apparently Alfred liked his cone with two balls.

After a while Alfred put his book down again and stared out into the rain. I was gently leaning against his shoulder, and as he hadn't said anything for a few minutes, my eyes had closed, and I had started to fall asleep. He woke me up with a sudden question:

"Did you ever touch Evan?" I blinked and yawned a bit.

"Evan?"

"You've said you don't like him anymore. Is it because he never touched you?" I straightened up and just shook my head weakly. It was almost ironic, because it was the other way around, but I couldn't very well tell him what had happened between us. I wasn't sure how he would react, but I knew for sure how I would feel; embarrassed. Embarrassed about just letting someone getting me drunk and fool around with me like that after I gave them my trust. I didn't want to appear dumb in front of Alfred, so I just shook my head again and sighed:

"It's nothing like that. I just… don't like him anymore."

"So he did touch you?"

"No, Alfred - why is this even important?"

"Have you ever touched other guys?" I raised my brows and glared at him. He blushed and stuttered: "I-I mean, in the way that we touch each other… Like… Close…?" I kept staring at him while his face turned dark in colour, and his pupils started to shake. So that's what it was all about. I placed my hand on his shoulder, gave it a squeeze and in a stern voice I said:

"Alfred." In a very shaken voice he answered:

"A-Arthur?" And I pushed him to the ground in a swift move and climbed on top of him, settling myself astride of his stomach as I picked up the book.

"Scene one, a public place" I read out aloud and looked across the top of the book. Alfred was blinking and looking quite confused, so I stuck my nose in between the pages. "In the story of Romeo and Juliet, in which Romeo doesn't go around touching other men's junk." I looked down at him again, and finally he smiled, getting what I meant.

"Cool." He struggled to get up. I made myself heavier and continued:

"Enter Sampson and Gregory armed with swords and bucklers."

"Don't, I can read it myself."

"Sampson: Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals."

"O?"

"Gregory: No, for then we should be colliers."

"What a joke."

"I think it was meant that way."

"Don't think, keep reading." Alfred made himself comfortable underneath me, and I started to read him the story of the love between Romeo and Juliet.

* * *

At school love was hard to find. Alfred went straight back into his fame and glory, and I sat alone at break with my fingers holding tightly onto a mug of bad tea from the cafeteria. I was trying not to make myself noticed nor notice anyone looking at me, but it was painfully clear how the alternative table was giving me looks and whispering back and forth about me, and I was slowly turning my back to face them, getting more and more into my poor mug. Evan hadn't come around for the whole summer, so I supposed Elizabeta had let him know that I wasn't interested in seeing him anymore. Still it felt odd that he just sat there at the table, not offering me a single word or look, and he didn't even flinch when I walked by the table on my way out. Someone pulled at my rucksack and made me stumble, but as I turned to see who did it, they were all looking at each other innocently. I gave Evan a nasty glare, but he just looked away. "Bastards," I hissed.

"Did you really think you were something?" I looked over the known heads to find the one who had spoken. I didn't recognize the voice, and as I finally saw who was the one speaking, I didn't recognize the face either. It was a boy sitting next to Evan. He was at least a year younger than me, had black hair and very grey eyes. As I looked him in the eyes, he put a hand on Evan's arm and smiled sweetly at me. "Frigid body," he whispered and gave me a dirty look up and down, and I took in a deep breath, stepped forward, then turned around and hastily threw my mug across the table and right into Evan's chest. He cried up and jumped to his legs, and his little friend did as well, crying: "Oh my God, oh my God!" as if it was a prayer. I leapt my way out of the cafeteria. I could hear quick footsteps following me, and as I turned down the hallways to reach the stairs, a hand grabbed my shoulder and forced me up against the wall. I looked into the eyes of Elizabeta.

"Don't be foolish," she said. I pushed her off of me.

"You heard what he said."

"Still.."

"And Evan said nothing."

"Evan's a fucker." I looked at her with my eyes all red. I didn't want to cry, but I felt like it, having seen that kid being so close to Evan. I knew what he was; the lad's newest toy. I had easily been replaced.

"I bet that boy lets him fuck the shit out of his ass," I sobbed, and Elizabeta sighed and searched her pockets for a napkin. She found an old one of paper and handed it to me, and I snatched it from her and blew my nose in it.

"You shouldn't care."

"But I do. Why didn't you care enough to tell me?" I asked her, and she looked away as a group of students passed by. I slipped around the corner and pressed myself up against a door leading into an empty classroom. She followed me and stood at the corner so that she shadowed for me. I gratefully wiped my eyes off while no one looked. "All the times he disappeared at parties… He was messing around with others, right?" Elizabeta nodded.

"Right."

"Fucker."

"Here." She handed me yet a napkin. I took it and rubbed my cheeks off in it.

"He hasn't even apologized."

"He doesn't apologize. He just… has his fun and moves on. He's nasty."

"If you think he's so nasty, why do you still sit at the table with him?" She seemed like one who wanted to answer, but couldn't. I blew my nose once again.

"I don't have many friends, Arthur."

"Neither do I," I sobbed and threw the napkins to the floor. I kicked them in behind a chair. "But I don't fuck up the friendships I have."

"I am sorry, alright?" I crossed my arms and looked out of the window. She grabbed my arm. "Look, I don't know what else to say, Arthur."

"I still don't want to be friends with you," I said sternly and looked at her. "I have Toris. I don't need you." She backed away at that, and without another word she slipped back into the cafeteria. I was aware that I had been harsh, but I felt it was only fair. I had some pride to redeem, and there was a certain logic to my words. I really didn't need anyone as long as I had Alfred outside of school and Toris inside. I just had to accept this situation for another year, then I could move on to high school and forget all about the bad memories here. I really couldn't wait.

Already the next day, however, things had changed. When I went to eat my lunch alone at the table, I noticed that a few seats at the alternative table were empty. I had hardly gotten to see whose faces weren't there when Heracles sat down in front of me and smiled a lazy smile.

"Hey," he said, and I gave him a little nod. I couldn't be truly mad at Heracles as he hadn't had anything to do with Evan at all. He had his other friends outside of school, and he hardly ever hung out with us in the time I knew him. I couldn't believe he had had anything to do with the party, especially as he hadn't been there, so as he started speaking to me, I didn't give him the cold shoulder. "I haven't seen you all summer. Been busy?" I nodded.

"I've been with family and friends."

"Went anywhere?"

"Not really. You?"

"No, slept most of the time." He grinned, and I chuckled and unwrapped my sandwich.

"I am not surprised."

"Mhmm…" For a while we ate in silence. Then suddenly the chair next to Heracles was pulled out as well, and Elizabeta took a seat. I glared at her. She cleared her throat.

"Can I sit here?" I looked at Heracles. He cleared his throat as well:

"Can she?" I glared at both of them at once. They smiled. What a conspiracy. I put down my sandwich.

"If any of you ever fuck with me again-" I started, but I didn't need to finish my warning.

"We won't," Elizabeta said, and she leaned in over the table again. "I really am sorry." I just shrugged, and we all went back to eating our food. I threw a look towards Evan. He was staring at me while the toy at his arm was desperately trying to get his attention by tugging at his shirts. Evan pulled his arm away. 1-0 to me. I felt like the king of the world.

* * *

To some it may have seemed pathetic that I took back Elizabeta as a friend, but for me it was just as much about winning over Evan. Elizabeta proved that she cared more for me by not hanging out with him anymore, and even though we didn't really go to see each other after school, just knowing that she was somewhat my ally at school helped me a lot when I had a bad day.

Besides Alfred, I only really spent time with Toris, but for me that was enough. Toris was a kind and intelligent lad with a great sense of humour, and with him I finally got the chance to make fun of American football and be in love with the Queen without him considering it odd. I felt so comfortable around him that I often started rambling about stuff that I would normally not tell others about, and it was that way that he found out Alfred and I had gotten a bit closer than most friends do. It occurred to him over time as he noticed small things in my stories that stood out to him, like if I mentioned that we held hands or sat close or slept in the same bed. I didn't have to put the pieces together for him, he did it himself, and as I one day walked him to the bus stop to see him catch the bus home, he turned to me and gravely asked:

"Do you like Alfred?" The question came as quite a surprise to me, and as an immediate reaction I stuttered:

"He's a good friend." Toris eyed me suspiciously.

"That's all?"

"That's all." He took a step away from me and started to zip up his jacket. I tried to built up spit in my mouth, but it had gone completely dry. "Why do you ask?"

"I just…" he shrugged and avoided looking at me. He was peeking in the direction of the bus. "I worry, alright?"

"There's nothing to worry about," I assured him with laughter in my voice, but he kept looking upset. The bus came driving around the corner. It stopped in front of us. I stepped over to hug him, but before I could get to do it, he had stepped into the bus. I blinked. He paid the driver and looked out at me.

"Be careful," he said, and the doors closed, and I could just stand there and watch the vehicle take of.

"Why?" I mumbled to the air. I got no answer.

I wasn't sure what was up with Toris when it came to the friendship between Alfred and I, but he wasn't keen on discussing the subject either, so it was hard for me to get a straight answer from him. In the end I gave up trying, and I just stopped talking about Alfred when I was with him. It was a bit sad, since I sometimes just wanted to share a good story because he had become a dear friend to me, but on the other hand I doubted that Alfred really went around sharing stories about me with anyone. Not that I really knew anything about his friends.

Alfred seemed to hang out with everyone from the football-team. As soon as someone showed interest in sports, he was all over them. Apparently there was also special parties for the team-members only, and he would go to most of them to have fun. He once invited me to go to one with him, but I declined. Not just because there would only be sport-fanatics, because most of those muscular guys were pretty hot, but rather because their parties reminded me of those I had went to before meeting Evan. No alcohol, no one smoking, no one dressing individualistic and no loud rock music. It was all pop and popcorn. Somehow I felt too old for that and way too mature to be partying with guys only my age. I had just gotten used to hanging out with high school blokes and college kids, and after having passed the first awkward stage of no one speaking to me, I had picked up on their way of talking and gotten pretty good at sounding a few years older than I was. I had lied about having had sex, being close to celebrities and even doing drugs. The last one was my biggest mistake as the word was spread, and guys started to come up to me while I was dancing, whispering into my ear how they had a good deal to offer me. Sometimes I would still see them on the street and had to avoid them seeing me. I wasn't interesting in getting messed up from taking a wrong step.

What was more messed up than anything, though, was the developing relationship between Alfred and I. When we saw each other at school, we would just greet and maybe chat a little, but we never really talked until class has ended and we could both catch the bus home. I think part of it was that while I was hanging out with Evan, I was for most parts avoiding Alfred, so now, even though we had grown to be close, we couldn't get used to being best friends in between classes like before. Alfred would be outside doing whatever the other boys were doing, and I would sit and do homework or stroll around the hallways with Elizabeta or Toris, sharing lunch and thoughts.

But then, when school ended, we were all over each other again. We would mostly go to his house to use the three hours of being left alone, and then either part or play games for the rest of the day. We also started to share our hobbies more. Alfred would teach me stuff about guns and the gun-laws in the states, and he would let me know if the different football teams had lost or won, and what the right way to improve your strength was. In return I would tell him tales from all over the world, show him how to draw different stuff (he specially liked to draw tanks), and I would make sure he knew all the members of the Royal family by name and status.

One could be fooled to think that with summer ending and homework starting to pile up again, we would be too busy to hang out as much as before, but actually the opposite happened. Instead of us just making out and feeling up each other's bodies, we came closer and spent time listening to each other. When it came to homework, we got good at finishing it quickly; Alfred easily explained the logic behind triangles to me, and I showed him how he could do a good essay from having read only the back cover of a book. I was surprised to find that he was very gifted when it came to numbers and actually doing stuff.

"As long as there are rules, it's easy," as he told me. Rules had always appeared restraining to me, and therefore I preferred writing, as you could never really pinpoint the correct way to do a short story or an essay; you just learnt to be creative. However, for Alfred that was too much work, and he was just as devastated about doing a paper as I was about doing sit-ups at PE. Sadly, though Alfred could do my homework in maths, he couldn't do anything to help me when I was in the field, running 2 miles, and though he eagerly tried to make me go with him for a run, I, just as eagerly, sent him off running alone while enjoying a cup of tea.

I was doing just that one day as Alfred's mom found me in her living room. I had made myself a fairly large mug of strawberry-tea and was slowly sipping it while I was keeping an eye on Alfred outside on the lawn, doing push-ups in between running up and down the road. I looked up and gave her a smile as she sat down next to me. "Hey there," I greeted. She ruffled my hair.

"I see I am not the only one who prefer the sofa over the sneakers," she said, and I laughed.

"He's nuts. Look at him - a bit more work-out and his muscles will rip his shirt." She did look at him. She sloped her head to the side as she followed her son with her gaze, watching him trying to climb a tree he had suddenly gotten his eyes on. She was smiling warmly.

"He never runs out of energy."

"That's true." I took a sip of my mug and leaned back up against the backrest. She now looked at me and corrected her skirt.

"You and Alfy has gotten close again, hah?" she asked, and I nodded with a light blush.

"Yeah, well, we never really stopped being friends…"

"It's only good you're back. You're a true friend to him." I looked at her curiously.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, and she sighed as if she regretted her words. Still she carried on.

"Well, he has gotten popular! I am aware of that.. But it's sometimes hard to know your real friends from the amazed lot. Do you get what I mean?" I nodded and looked into my mug.

"I do," I mumbled.

"So it's good to know he still has one good lad keeping him company." She placed her hand on my shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze. I smiled, but at the same time I felt a bit bad. If she knew just what kinds of things this _good lad_ was doing to her son, would she still like me?

"There's Rachel as well," I said quietly, maybe just not to sound all that special as she made me feel. Her smile fell, and she cocked a brow. I noticed, but as she didn't say anything, I cleared my throat. "I mean, his girlfriend, right?"

"He hasn't told you?" she asked quietly and shook her head.

"What?" She sighed again and grabbed around her skirt.

"Oh, I shouldn't discuss this with you." She got up and started to walk towards the kitchen. I placed my mug on the table and quickly turned around in the sofa to look after her. Now I was extremely curious.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "What should he have told me?" She stopped up and crossed her arms as she leaned against the doorway. I could clearly see how she was at conflict with herself about whether to tell me or not. Then she ran her fingers through her hair.

"That stupid boy," she mumbled, then she looked at me and smiled a bit. "They already broke up. Quite some time ago even. But I never said anything." With that she left the living room. I sank back down into the sofa with my eyes wide open. They broke up? But why wouldn't he tell me that he broke up with her? He told me he wouldn't do it until December came around!

…but maybe she had been the one to break up with him? I glared out the window. Alfred jumped down from the tree he'd climbed and proudly straightened up. When he saw me looking, he waved at me and grinned widely. I waved back. I couldn't understand what kind of game he was playing. Just as I thought I was leading it all, he decided to go and become an active player again. Somehow it upset me, but at the same time I couldn't ask him any questions since he would want to know from where I got my information. I cared a lot for his mom, and I wouldn't like to put her in the spot. If she was someone he confessed things to, I wouldn't like to ruin it for neither of them, but at the same time his silence made me uncomfortable.

As he'd taken a bath and gotten dressed again, I acted as if I noticed the picture of a big-breasted chick on his wall by coincidence. "That reminds me," I said and pointed to it, "how're things between you and Rachel?" He didn't even flinch as he sat down next to me on the bed and shrugged.

"Good, I guess."

"Still together?" He nodded and looked at me with raised brows.

"Why?"

"No reason.." I scratched my arm and looked away. What a brilliant liar. I just wanted to shout it in his face, but I knew it would be better for me to wait. But maybe I waited too long. Exactly two months and twelve days after we'd started school again, only three days after I asked Alfred about Rachel, she showed up at my front door.

"I have a feeling," she said, "that you took Alfred from me." I didn't know what to say. Then she started to cry. For once I remembered a useful sentence Evan taught me, and silently I mouthed:

Fuck my life.

* * *


	14. 14

I wasn't sure what to say to Rachel, and I quickly got the feeling that she had no idea about what to say to me either. It had probably taken a lot of courage for her to come and confront me with her feelings, but now that I had invited her upstairs to my room, she just sat down on the edge of my bed with a nervous look on her face and no authority to her body language. When I handed her a mug of tea, she simply chirped a:

"Thanks," and stared down at the brown water. Her fingers were desperately clutching to the handle as if her dear life depended on this old mug, and as I noticed it, I tried to ease the mood by putting on some music. I didn't really have anything that fitted a girl, but I let the more quiet lyrics of Sid Vicious eat up the silence. I knew it wasn't completely appropriate, but after a short while Rachel giggled and wiped her red eyes off in her pink sleeve. "Alfred did say you listened to hardcore stuff," she said and smiled a bit, and I could tell she wasn't trying to make fun of me, so I just nodded though I really couldn't pinpoint anything rough about the song.

"What kind of music do you listen to?"

"Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey," she quickly listed. I just kept nodding though rather confused. She lifted the mug to her lips. "Do you know them?" I shook my head. "Oh…"

"Yeah…" She took a sip of the tea. I could tell she was doing it slowly, and not because she was afraid of scalding her lips, but because she really didn't have the right words to break this new silence that had settled between us. I just listened to the music in the background and rocked my feet. I was sitting by my deck across of her. I didn't want to put pressure on her by claiming the spot right next to her in my bed which was one reason why I was keeping a distance. But the other reason was that she reeked of perfume. The heavy smell of roses reached me again, and I quickly lifted my own mug of tea to drown it in the scent of earl grey. I even preferred Alfred all sweaty compared to this smell. Probably because I wasn't used to it. Mom hardly ever used perfume because she found it was expensive and bad for her skin. Rachel didn't seem to have that kind of worries. I merely pondered how Alfred could stand kissing her like this.

Despite the smell, Rachel wasn't all that horrible up close. She was very girly in her pink, frilly top and longer skirt, and I eyed some black stuff around her eyes that she had probably put on to look better. It was dripping a bit after she had cried, and the wipe-off in her sleeve had left some of it in a black dot there. Still, she wasn't nasty, and somehow it surprised me how quiet she was.

At the parties I've been to, I'd quickly come to discover that the stories about girls being creatures with high-pitched, ecstatic voices and hobbies narrowed down to nail polish and shoes were nothing but rumours. But somehow I'd kept believing that Rachel was just that. She was always very energetic around Alfred, lovingly and dressed up as if she believed she was a top model of some sort. She greased her face with make-up and wore her heels high, and Alfred had let me know that her best friend was French and always bought her the newest designs. She was well off, she had everything, but now she didn't have Alfred. Still, though she had cried just minutes earlier, there was very little drama to her now. When I invited her inside, I had feared she would throw things at me and accuse me for raping Alfred's mind silly. Instead she had turned into a mute doll.

"Uhmm.." she hummed after a while, and I looked at her, expecting some sort of voiced continuation. She blushed a bit at my staring eyes, and she looked down at her feet and wriggled with her toes. She then shook her head and sighed bitterly. "How dumb I am, coming over here…"

"He never told me he broke up with you," I said, maybe a bit too boldly, because her lips sunk into a grimace of disgust, and she glared over at me in clear disbelief.

"You're best friends," she stated.

"That's what I thought." She put the cup down on the floor and folded her arms as if she wanted to hug herself away. She was still keeping eye contact with me.

"Did you tell him to break up with me?" I snorted.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you don't like me."

"I don't know you."

"What does that have to do with anything?" I peeled a tiny bit of skin off my lower lip and then reached out and turned the music off. The creak from my chair as I turned it to face Rachel seemed horribly loud.

"I can't exactly hate someone I don't know," I answered logically. She rolled her eyes.

"Then why did you stop coming to his games?" I hesitated. Rachel dropped her hands to her lap and clutched at her skirt. "I really tried to make you like me, showing up where the two of you were, but you just stopped coming around. Then you got… green hair and started to avoid Alfred even. Was that because of me?" I was stunned at her words, because somehow she was right, and somehow I didn't want her to be right. I did stop coming around Alfred's because of her, but also because I thought they wouldn't like me to tag along. I never wanted to be the odd person out. Not in that sense at least. "Did you do it on purpose?" Rachel asked, making me snap out of my thoughts.

"What?"

"Stop seeing Alfred…" I raised my brows, and she finally looked away. She stared at my shelf. The unicorn Alfred had given me years earlier was standing there, a bit dirty, but proud with its horn raised high. Rachel seemed very broken down compared to it. She ducked and took in a shaky breath, again she was on the verge of crying.

"That makes no sense," I said with a sigh.

"I think you stopped seeing him, so he would have to choose between you and me." I smacked my forehead and groaned.

"That's the dumbest thing ever!"

"But it worked!"

"There was no such plan!" Rachel let go of a loud, whiny sound as she held he tears back. I got back onto my feet with an annoyed glare as I slipped to the bathroom and grabbed a roll of toilet paper. I came back into the room and threw it to her lap, and she hastily started drying off her cheeks and eyes. I sat down again and ruffled my hair with a groan. "We just fell apart, alright?" I said and looked at her. She rubbed the paper to her cheek and looked at me with sadness in her wet eyes.

"That's it?" she whispered.

"That's it," I nodded. She sniffled, and for a moment I almost felt sorry for her. She really couldn't have done anything to keep Alfred as a boyfriend. Even if I hadn't kissed him, I doubted they would've stayed together. He would've found some other girl, because to Alfred it was about how he felt. I suppose that's why we were still kissing, though he had his worries about it being gay. He just couldn't stop as long as it felt good. But Rachel had probably stopped being anything exciting after all these months, and he had to move on. I felt a lump work its way up my throat. Was he going to get bored of me as well at some point?

"I better go home," Rachel said and put the paper aside. I scratched my cheek and nodded.

"The thing about Al," I said and looked at her, "he's just.. Well, you know he's popular. Because he likes everyone. I really don't think he meant to hurt you." She nodded silently and got up. I did as well and picked up her still full mug of tea. "Even if I'd told him to break up with you, I don't think he would've," I said to comfort her, though I deep down knew that he would've done just that. I tried to smile an honest smile despite being a liar. "He does what he believes to be right."

"Breaking up with me was right?" she snorted and opened the door. "Go on." She held it open for me as I walked past her with our mugs, one in each hand. I shrugged on my way down the stairs.

"It doesn't sound good when you put it that way, but I really think so." I looked over my shoulder. She was following me down with her eyebrows knitted ponderingly together. I went to the kitchen and put the mugs in the sink before walking her to the front door. She put on her boots while I watched.

"Well, at least I've probably given you something to laugh about by coming here." She tied her laces. I shook my head.

"I don't consider you a joke."

"What do you consider me, then? A sad story?" I handed her her jacket, but as she took a hold of it, I kept holding onto it as I looked into her eyes. My own gaze was stern.

"I am not going to laugh at you, and I am not going to tell Al that you came by. Alright? I am not some bastard." She ripped her jacket free of my hand and put it on. I opened the door and let her walk outside.

"Sorry I've been a bother."

"It's fine - do you feel any better?" I leaned against the doorframe. She turned around and shook her head.

"I almost would've felt better if you'd told him to dump me.. Then I could've blamed someone." Rachel laughed a silly laugh and then looked up at the darkening sky. I did as well. As I waited for her to start walking, she kept standing there as if she wanted to ask something more. I slipped an inch back as if I was going to close the door, and she quickly stuttered: "Did he speak of me, at least?"

"How?" She blushed and zipped up her jacket.

"Did he tell you about me? When we were together.. What did he say?" I raised my brows at her. She looked quite pitiful as she stood there, really hoping for me to say some praising words. I could lie well to her. 'Oh, he always said you kissed nicely,' or: 'He told me you were the best girlfriend he could ever imagine.' It would take me less than five words to make her happy. I cleared my throat.

"He never spoke of you," I said and closed the door.

* * *

I wasn't revengeful when it came to Rachel, but I saw no point in letting her believe she was going to get back together with Alfred. He'd told me himself that he only considered her a friend, but that made me all the more curious about why he hadn't just told me that he broke up with her.

I tried to make him speak over the next few weeks. Whenever I saw him stroll around alone at school, I would ask: "Why aren't you hanging out with Rachel?" But instead of giving me an honest answer, he just came up with all kinds of silly explanations.

"I can't find her," or: "She's got her period, so she wants to be alone," or: "She's busy doing homework." He started to stutter whenever I asked him, and at some point I actually believed that he'd found out I knew about the break up. But then on the 1st of December, exactly as we'd gotten lunch break and I was leaving class, he came running up to me, grabbed me by the arm and pulled me aside. "I broke up with Rachel," he said and smiled so brightly it made my heart hurt.

"O-oh? Today?" He nodded.

"Yes, because it's Christmas now. Remember? We agreed on Christmas," he said, and I could only answer:

"Oh, right," and accept the warm hug that followed. He squeezed me harshly to his chest, and Toris, who was passing by in the same moment, sent me an odd look from behind Alfred's back. I smiled at him silly, but he just shook his head and disappeared around the corner. Alfred let go of me with that happy grin of his stuck to his face. "How did she take it?" I asked. Alfred rolled his eyes the way he did before he was going to tell a lie, and I leaned against the wall and listened carefully.

"She was all fine with it. She had thought about leaving me as well, so we're cool!" he said. I narrowed my eyes.

"A-hah?" Alfred jerked at his shirt as if he was suddenly feeling very hot.

"A-hah," he repeated and nodded. "Uhmm.." We stood a bit awkward and stared at each other. The hallways were becoming empty as everyone was heading for lunch. As we were all alone and Alfred still wasn't saying anything, I clapped at my schoolbag.

"Want to eat lunch on the roof?" I asked. "Mom packed me some cake we can share." Alfred lit up into a smile.

"Sure!" I turned around and led the way upstairs. The roof was what we called the top floor of the building. The big room up there used to be the school library until it got too big to fit the space and got its own building. It was supposed to be rebuilt into a common room, but the school was low on money, and therefore the room had just been left empty for now. There were two large windows on the sloping ceiling facing the sky, and students had brought up chairs, pillows and tables, making the place a quite cosy room for relaxation. When we entered, though, there was no one there, and we sat down by the pillows underneath the biggest window. I brought forward the large slice of cake and parted it into two, handing Alfred the bigger half. He happily started licking the frosting off the top.

"I've got a test in maths tomorrow," I said and took a bite of my cake. "It's not cool. I know I'll get low grades again."

"Is it the one in triangles?"

"Yeah."

"I've had that one. Want the answers from me?" I gave his shoulder a push.

"I don't cheat," I sneered, though I couldn't help but to smile at the cheeky look he was giving me.

"Why not? It's not like the world will collapse if you cheated once."

"Oh, you never know," I said and swallowed a chunk of frosting.

"Maybe the Earth will crack and small men with guns will emerge."

"That sounds like Texas."

"Shut up, Texas rocks."

"In Texas there are guns."

"And cowboys."

"And horses."

"I was once in Texas with Dad. He bought me a real cowboy hat." Alfred acted like his cake was a hat and held it up over his head. I gave him an odd look.

"Do you still have it?"

"No, I don't know where it is anymore. I think I lost it as we moved here."

"Do you miss America?" Alfred put the cake on his knee as he wiped his hands off in his shirt. His cheeky smile had turned a bit sad.

"Sometimes? I mean, I would like to go back sometime…" I swallowed.

"Go back as in… move there?" He nodded. "Oh.." I stuffed my mouth with cake and felt a bit upset that I asked him that question. The mood seemed way too heavy now. Alfred slipped his arm around my shoulder and gave my body a little jerk.

"You can just move with me, eh?" I spluttered with cake all over. He laughed and let go of me. "You have frosting in your nose!"

"I do not!" I mumbled, but still I wiped that and my lips off in my arm. "I can't go to America," I then continued in a bit more serious voice.

"Why not?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"I like England."

"So do I."

"Then why would you want to move?"

"It's just a thought! Like, some time in the future." I pursed my lips. Alfred sighed and ruffled my hair. "Hey, don't give me that face. I am not moving next month."

"Well, I would certainly never move away from you," I said and stuck out my tongue at him. Alfred snickered and tackled me to the floor.

"Alright, and if I ever move to America, I will drag you with me." I looked up at him and ran my fingers through his fringe. Somehow, without me wanting to say it, I still couldn't help but to whisper:

"You will have to, because I really don't want to move away from you." It made him smile, and right there at school, he leaned down and pecked my lips. I couldn't even make myself scold him for doing so.

* * *

Know what?

Irony sucks.

December went as December always does; we hardly had any snow, but a lot of rain, and Alfred gave me a sweater, and I gave him a new shirt for football with his last name on the back. We couldn't help but to tease each other, though, and my sweater had stars and stripes all over it, while his shirt was in red and white, the colours of the English flag. He pointed out to me that those were also the colours of the Danish flag, and made a joke about how the Vikings screwed us over. When I told him how gay it is to have stars on your flag, though, he didn't find it funny. Instead he started to rant to me about how the 'greatest flag in the world' came to look as it does, and if I hadn't started massaging his groin, I am sure we would've ended up in an argument. But nothing distracted Alfred as a hand close to his cock, and we celebrated the coming of a new year in each others' arms.

We still kept our clothes on. I am not sure how we managed not to just let go of all worries and jerk each other off, but we only kissed, felt and then left the dirty ending to be handled by ourselves alone in the bathroom. Sometimes I could see how Alfred just longed for me to tell him to move on and let his hand slip into my pants, but as I never allowed him to go further, he never tried to. I started to worry he would get tired of me and just go out and find someone else to take care of him, but on the other hand I also worried that going too fast would leave him disgusted and not ever wanting to do the dirty with me ever again. As the gay one of the two of us, I almost felt that I was expected to know how the act should be done, but I had no clue. I knew the cock would go in the ass, but from that point on I was only left with my imagination. I imagined the pain it would bring, and I wondered what would be of the sperm. How would you get that out again? The more I thought about sex, the less attractive I found it, but whenever Alfred rubbed his bulge to mine, I just wished I could rip my clothes off and let us have the most amazing time ever.

I didn't dare to ask Alfred if he had that kind of thoughts, or if he knew how sex between men were acted out. I didn't know where to go and retrieve that kind of information either. I wasn't keen on asking Rome though he was the obvious source for information. It simply would be too embarrassing. But if I went to ask a librarian for a book on the subject, how wouldn't she react? What if she told other librarians about it, and they passed it on to other people, and what if one of those people were my Mom or Dad?

So I was worried all the time, and it kept me back from trying to get it on with Alfred, though I felt we had kissed more than enough for things to move on. I told myself it was alright to wait. After all, we were both still 15, and 16 was the lawful age of consent. I told myself that if I waited for half a year, then maybe I would magically know how things were supposed to go. But the more I waited, the more sexually frustrated I grew, and I spent almost every night jerking off to the thought of Alfred. In the warm afterglow, I lied and wondered if he jerked off to the thought of me as well.

While I became more frustrated, Mom became more depressed. Just before Christmas she was officially fired, and her life as an unemployed woman was a reality. There were no good jobs in the area, and all the work she could take on were to be found in the city and not in a small village like ours. As the new year started, Dad was never at home as he had to double his income to make up for the loss of Mom's. I was always awakened at night by them fighting. Sometimes Mom was crying because she felt sorry for Dad, sometimes Dad was yelling because he was tired and wanted Mom to just 'bloody get work already', and sometimes they were both yelling and crying because they loved each other but hated each other while they loved each other even more. There was constantly a bad mood at home, and I tried to spent as much time as possible with Alfred, but then he made me frustrated, and I went to see Toris who made me feel bad for being close with Alfred. Toris never said it out loud, but I could tell that he knew more than he was supposed to, and he didn't like the things he knew.

"Have you thought about getting a girlfriend?" he often asked me after I had ranted about Alfred, and I just never knew what to say.

"If someone fits me," I often ended up stuttering, and he left it at that. But questions like those always left me feeling even more worried than I already was, and I would go home to the bad mood in the house and be all confused and sad.

Before Alfred broke up with Rachel, I had thought of her as the last obstacle in my way to true happiness with Alfred. Of course I never dared to say it out loud, but deep down that was what I had believed. But after Rachel had been forgotten about, I had been left to face these more serious troubles, and it seemed like the bad situation was an ongoing thing that would just never end. Mom's possible work kept being too far away for her to apply to, Dad kept working even during the weekends until his back started hurting, and Alfred kept licking his way down my neck, making me want to force that tongue in between my legs already. I thought it all couldn't become worse when I came close to my exams and the summer vacation I had longed for. But then my parents got a 'brilliant idea'.

"We're moving to the city," Dad suddenly said one day as I was on my way to school. First I thought he was joking, because I was finishing my breakfast and pretty late already.

"Nice one, I need to catch my bus," I sneered and threw the glass into the sink. Dad put his hand on my shoulder and gave me a sorry look.

"Arthur, I am serious." I stared up at him. "I can't work this hard. We're losing money. If Mom doesn't get a job, we'll lose this house. We've decided to move to give her better job opportunities." I was in shock. I didn't know what to say, so I merely chirped:

"What about my exams?"

"We'll move during vacation. You have to enter high school anyway. We'll move close to a good one." My lips started shaking.

"B-but… what about Alfred?" Dad had always loved Alfred, and I thought the mentioning of him would make him reconsider moving, but as he just shrugged, I realised that this was a final decision, and no matter what kinds of ideas I came up with, they were going to move. With or without me.

"You can see him at weekends," he said. I felt my eyes water.

"What about Toris?"

"You can also see him at weekends."

"What about… what about me?" I finally shouted, and Dad let go of me.

"It's not always about you, Arthur," he said. I dropped my bag to the floor, fled up the stairs and kicked my door shut.

"But it's always about you, isn't it?" I shouted as I was sure he couldn't hear me. I knew I was being selfish. This was for my family. And somehow, moving city would also move me away from my worries about Alfred.

That's when I realised that I really, really didn't want to let go of those worries.


	15. 15

Mom and Dad had found a cheap flat in the outskirts of the industrial district. Apparently they had been looking for a house for a long time without any luck, and in the end they'd found themselves satisfied with just a place to live in. Or in my words; a place to survive at.

I still had two weeks of school left when they decided to show me the place. It was a Sunday morning, and the weather was somewhat chilly, but Mom walked around with slow, happy steps as if nothing could ever bring her down. I sat on the stairs outside and watched her as she packed the car with teabags, blankets and biscuits for the ride. I wasn't in a good mood, my teeth tasted of toothpaste and I had started to sweat in my coat. When Mom passed me by, she messed up my hair with her slim fingers and chirped:

"Take that coat off and put on a smile!" I sneered at her, but she didn't hear it. Instead she slipped out a cut from a newspaper and handed it to me. I grabbed it and leaned back against the doorframe with a pity look on my face.

"What's that now?"

"That's where we're going today." I corrected the folds in the paper and took a good look at the pictures of our new home. They were pretty typical for any real-estate company. The first one showed the big, squared building in red with pretty bushes in front and a few, shiny cars parked outside of it. The second one overviewed the cosy kitchen with pink tiles along the walls, while the third showed a spacious living room with big windows facing the sky. "We're moving in on the third floor," Mom said. I sloped my head to the side and tried to calculate how much of a run it would take me to jump out of those windows and hit the ground dead. Sadly, I was never good at math.

"Aren't you even the tiniest bit sad we're moving?" I asked and looked up at her. Mom huffed and shook her head.

"Of course not, sweetheart," she said in a tolerant voice. "And neither should you be."

"Do you think you'll find work?"

"I already did." I raised my brows.

"Oh, where?"

"I'll be a cleaning lady at one of the buildings nearby. There are factories all over. I'll never have to go without work again." She gave me her sweetest smile, and though I wanted to tell her off, I bitterly smiled back. Dad pushed past Mom in his small windbreaker and held up the car-keys.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Are you ready… to move?" I returned the question, and Mom swallowed so hard I could hear the spit being forced down.

"Let's.. Let's get going," she quickly said and pecked his cheek. Dad grunted and opened the car doors, and I got in on the backseat with a sigh of hopelessness. I still had the paper with the pictures on. I played with it on the way as the road just seemed to keep going. At first I tried to keep track of the way, but after twenty minutes I gave up and instead closed my eyes to get a bit of sleep. I didn't want to live in a flat. It was embarrassing. Poor people live in flats, that's what I thought. Poor people and students, who're poor anyway most of the time. But not families. Deep down I knew I was making up that idea, but somehow it had gotten stuck with me, and so I didn't want to be a part of that lousiness I associated with flat-families.

"Now you can give Alfred your new address," Mom said waking me up. I looked around and then out of the window, just to find we were still driving. Mom had turned around in the front seat and was smiling at me. I rubbed my eyes and yawned.

"I haven't even told him I'm moving," I mumbled. I didn't have to look at Mom to know she was giving me a glare.

"Why not?" she asked, but I didn't answer. I stared out of the window and tried to count the poles passing by not to think of Alfred, but it was too late. Mom had reminded me of him, and now all I could think of was his smiling, happy face. Would he still smile when I had to tell him these news? I wasn't sure about how he would react.

Alfred had noticed something was wrong. In the week after Dad had told me about us moving, I'd stayed home from school a lot, and when I finally pulled myself together and started showing up regularly again, he pulled me aside at every break to make me confess to him.

"What's up?" he kept asking. Sometimes a: "What's the matter?" or, even worse: "Did I do something wrong?" I just wanted to shout at him that no, he didn't do anything wrong, I was the one who kept screwing up. But instead I just faked a smile.

"I've just had a cold," I usually replied. He seemed well satisfied with that explanation, but I had started to wonder if he really believed that I had a 3 week long lasting cold that seemed to disappear at school. Though Alfred wasn't quick, even a turtle would've picked up on my signals by now. Toris surely had, and he'd been the first one I confessed to. Maybe because it didn't matter as much with him. He lived in the city anyway, and moving would only bring us closer together. He'd moved around a lot as well, and he understood what kind of thoughts I had. I didn't even have to explain anything to him.

"If he's a good friend, you'll stay friends," was all he said, and we both silently knew that 'he' equalled Alfred. I gave him a hug for those words, because they warmed my heart, especially as I had the feeling he wasn't very happy about Alfred. I supposed it was because popular guys like him had used to bully him until he changed school. He'd never given me the full story, but I sensed it had been pretty nasty and not just a wedgie now and then. I'd often wanted to ask him what had really happened, but I always forgot or decided not to, and these days I was too focused on myself to even bother. It wasn't nice of me, but I just couldn't find the surplus energy to get into his past.

I looked down at the paper between my hands and glanced at the picture of the building once again. I wondered what Toris would think of it, but most of all I worried for Alfred's reaction. It all seemed hopeless, but when Dad parked the car and we got out, my hopelessness doubled with 100.

I got out on the asphalt and held up the picture with the red, clean building and green bushes in front of me. Then I slowly lowered it and peeked at the real complex with paint peeling off of it, no bushes and only a single, old lady with a zimmer frame passing by in slow-motion. I must have made a face, because Mom gave my shoulder a squeeze.

"It looks better on the inside," she promised me. I just nodded and followed them inside the stairway. It smelled heavily of soap as if someone had desperately tried to clean the building away, and we all quickly jogged up the stairs to the third floor. I read the names on the doors as we were passing them by. Most of them were typical last names like Moore or Brown, but there were no other Kirkland's. Technically, we weren't even there yet. The name on our door still said Russell. Dad put the key in the hole and pointed to the sign.

"He was a lonely, wealthy man," he said, "who lived here all alone." I pursed my lips unimpressed.

"So he died there?"

"No, he wasn't old. Just a bit nuts. He tried to hit on Mom when we were here." I grinned at Mom who blushed deeply.

"I did say no," she said. Dad opened the door and stepped in.

"Good he wasn't insulted, else we would never have gotten this!" He held out his hand as if he was introducing me to paradise. I jogged inside the hallway and took a look around. Luckily Mom had been right; it was better on the inside. All furniture had been moved out, and there were only dirt left to be cleaned up before we could move in our own stuff. I walked into the living room and looked out of the windows towards the factories just one building away. The complex in front of this one only had two floors, and I could watch the factories proudly towering behind it. One of them had a huge smokestack that smoked.

"That'll be a good place in the summer," Mom said and pointed down to the lawn underneath us. I followed her gaze.

"Is it ours?"

"No, it belongs to all the flats in this building. But it looks cosy, right?" I shrugged. I could feel she was really trying to make me excited about the place, but I wasn't sharing her joy. I'd lived most of my life in the village. I felt the village boy was still inside of me. I wasn't sure I could change him into a city lad. Mom poked my shoulder before she went back into the hallway, and I followed her. "This will be your room," she said and opened the door right next to the front door. I peeked inside. The squared space was about the same size as the room I used to have. Maybe a tad smaller. The window showed the parking lot. I walked over to it just as I had done in the living room, because I didn't know what else to do. Everything was so empty and so sad. I drew a line in the dirt on the glass.

"I've never liked flats," I said and poked two eyes and a nose above the first line. I drew a circle around it all, making the face of an angry man. Mom sighed and closed the door behind us.

"I know, Arthur."

"Then why didn't you get a house instead?"

"We'll get through this." I crinkled my brows and turned around to face her. She didn't look nowhere as excited as she'd done this morning. Instead she was smiling sadly and blinking her eyes like mad, as if she was holding back tears. I felt my mouth go dry.

"Mom?" She swallowed and looked down at her shoes. "Aren't you happy?"

"We'll get through this," she repeated and nodded. I walked over to her, and before she got to grab at the handle, I hugged her and pressed my face to her neck. She smelled of vanilla.

"Yeah, we will," I agreed with her, and her arms tightened around me as if she wanted to hug the air out of my lungs.

"We'll come around liking it," she whispered. I nodded to her neck, brushing my nose up and down it. "And you can have Alfred over as much as you want." I laughed a bit and let go of her.

"And Toris," I added, just to be polite. She gave me a weird smile.

"But mostly Alfred, right?" I blinked. Dad knocked at the door, and we stepped to the side so that he could open it. He looked at us concerned.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, and then he gave me one extra look that was almost angry. As if I'd done something wrong. Mom shook her head.

"It's all fine, we were just talking about how to decorate the room," she said, and I felt a weird feeling blossoming inside of my stomach. I hugged myself close and looked down at my shoes. Dad grunted.

"Okay. Then, are you up for tea?"

* * *

Dad made us tea in the kitchen. We drank it and ate our biscuits in the living room, sitting on some empty boxes. Dad talked about not working weekends anymore and being more at home. Mom talked about cleaning big offices and peeking in the important men's contracts. I chatted along and tried to be a polite son. I mostly just looked at Mom. I had no idea she was this sad about leaving our house. I think she was even more sad about it than me. Dad I wasn't too sure about. He hardly ever showed his feelings unless those were anger and despair. I think he thought that made him a real man. I wasn't too sure. Shouldn't a real man have the guts to let others know what he feels? Well, if that was the case, then I was no real man either.

I wasn't sure how to break the news to Alfred, but it turned out I didn't have to. Not only was Toris a good listener, but he was a great tell-taller too. Before I got the chance to let Alfred know, he'd been told I was moving. Somehow it came as a relieve to me, somehow it made me angry.

I'd decided to tell him on a Friday, because we normally hung out and played games at his place on Fridays. It was in the early evening, the sky was slowly turning darker, but there was still pretty light. He'd grabbed his football, and we'd went to the field nearby and started to play a bit. He always made himself worse when playing with me, just to make me feel better about myself. At first he would play as he always did, get a few goals and celebrate himself. Then he would start to become worse and worse at getting the ball and even at kicking it. When we were younger, it had annoyed me, but now I found it somewhat cute, and I never commented on it. I allowed for him to do his little I-am-so-angry-I-didn't-catch-that play whenever I got a goal. He was doing just that, rolling around in the grass, as I sat down and picked up the ball.

"There's something I need to tell you," I said, and he lied still on the ground.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah.." I rested the ball in my lap and gave it a little push. Alfred sat up two metres from me and gestured for me to give him the ball. I rolled it over to him, and he pushed it back to me, and we started a little game that way. I was still catching my breath from having run around. I told myself that that was why I was feeling so ill. I took in a deep breath and sighed. "It's bad news."

"I know," he said and caught be ball. He held it for a moment. I raised by brows.

"You know?" I repeated. He pushed the ball back to me.

"Yeah, you're moving." The ball hit my knee and rolled along. I was staring at him wide-eyed.

"How… from where do you-?"

"Toris."

"He told you?"

"I asked him why you were acting all odd. So he told me."

"Oh…" Alfred nodded and started to pluck some grass. I looked away. "…then you know," I mumbled.

"You'll still come around, right?" he asked. I quickly answered:

"Yes!" and looked at him. He smiled wryly. "A-and you can come to me. Whenever you want to." I hesitated. It sounded gay. So I added: "Well, my Mom said that." He nodded satisfied.

"I'll surely come by then."

"Good." Alfred let go of the grass. It got caught by a breeze and flew through the air.

"When are you moving?"

"The van is coming in a week." Alfred made a surprised sound.

"Just as school ends!" I nodded and dropped down to lie on my back. I could hear how he crawled across the grass and then dropped down next to me. His bare arm was touching mine. We were quiet for a while. I was taking in deep breaths, stabilizing my quick heart rhythm. I could smell the fresh grass and Alfred's sweaty shirt, feel the light touch of the hair on his arm brushing to mine and hear how he was breathing steadily and more slowly than me. How often would I get to have him this close to me after I'd moved? Would a new, pretty, little Brit move in next door and mesmerize him? Was it going to be another boy? I could handle Alfred having girlfriends, it fitted any popular sports freak. But to be replaced by a guy-! I almost sobbed at the thought alone.

"Dad has decided to get the shack down this summer," Alfred said. Then he laughed. "Ironic, hah?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just as you leaves, everything is breaking down. School ends, our shack disappears.. It's like a bad movie!" I hummed the Star Wars theme. Alfred hit my arm. "Those are good movies!"

"Mhmm, should we clean out the shack before I leave, then?"

"Next Friday?" I nodded. Alfred sat up. "Alright, good idea." I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He smiled at me, and I smiled back at him, and I almost wanted for him to lean down and kiss me, and I thought he was about to, but instead he pressed a handful of air into my face. "Got you!" I spluttered and jumped to my feet, and he did the same, and I started chasing him around the field.

"Idiot!" Alfred laughed. He seemed so happy. I wondered if anything could ever bring down that boy. He never seemed truly, deeply heartbroken. I wondered if he was like my father, hiding his feelings away. I preferred to think that. Sadistically, I preferred to believe that he was crying on the inside, because I was feeling bad about leaving him, and I wanted him to cry his eyes out when I got into the van. Even if he would do it all alone in his room after I'd left.

* * *

At school everyone congratulated each other with being done. The teachers were either very happy about seeing us off or very sad. My teacher in English gave me a hug and started weeping. "You've been such a good student," she said. Alfred got the same treatment by his teacher in math. The old man hugged him and praised him for his ability to calculate without a calculator. That Friday as we were walking to the bus stop, Alfred was beaming with pride.

"I'm having maths in high school," he said. I made a face.

"I am never, ever, never, ever having math again."

"Never, never, never?"

"-ever!" Alfred laughed and pushed my shoulder. We got on the bus and sat down in the back. "Are you ready to clean out the shack?"

"Are you ready to move?" he asked. I shrugged.

"I haven't given it much of a thought this week. I just…" I didn't know how to explain. Alfred quickly patted my knee while no one was looking.

"It's fine," he said. "Because nothing will change anyway. Not between us, that is." I gave him a grateful look. I didn't care for surroundings when he spoke to me like that. Just a look from him these days made my worries disappear and a happiness fill my stomach. I'd always loved being around Alfred, but after having been told I was to move away from him, it was as of my heart had grown fonder of the boy. I still saw his squared chin, his little stubbles (whenever he didn't care enough to shave), his big hands and his muscular chest. But I also saw a glimpse in his eyes I didn't see in any other guy's eyes, and it made me feel all odd. As we got off the bus and he grabbed my wrist, I almost grinned, but I managed to keep it cool and just kept walking as if nothing was going on between us.

We started to clean out the shack immediately. Alfred started on his wall, and I started on mine, and we pulled down the posters and notes and silly stuff we'd put up throughout the years and carefully placed it in a box. Alfred had written 'Memories' on the side of it, and I had teased him for being sentimental.

"You can't have it underneath your bed anyway. Not with all that porn you've got," I said, and he threw a poster at me.

"Well, then I'll just hide it underneath your's!"

"You already are!"

"Only the really nasty stuff." I rolled up a picture of Churchill and put it in the box. "I once saw a picture of a girl messing around with a cucumber."

"That's really nasty," I said.

"That's why it's underneath your bed now."

"That's even more nasty!"

"She has two cucumbers at some point."

"Aw, man, Al!"

"Well, she does have two holes as well…" I shuddered, but then pointed out, that:

"Actually, she has three. The mouth." Alfred turned and gave me a naughty smile.

"You should be making porn."

"For you to jerk off to?"

"Yeah, draw me some big boobs."

"I'll draw you a hairy ass." He stuck out his tongue at me. I did the same. We both turned to the last wall and started pulling down stuff, coming nearer each other. I pulled down a Superman poster and clucked my tongue. It was all ripped. "Some of these really ought to end in the bin."

"Don't you dare," Alfred hastily said, "I want to save them all." There were only two posters left now. Alfred reached up and pulled at Captain America, but I slapped his hands away.

"Don't."

"Why not?" he asked confused. I placed my hand by the Queen and smiled at him. A sad smile.

"Don't you remember? If one goes down-"

"- then so does the other," he finished my sentence. I nodded. Alfred bit his lower lip, placed his hand by his poster, and we looked at each other.

"Should I count to three?" I asked. He nodded.

"I'll say 2 and now," he said.

"Alright. 1-"

"-2-"

"-3-"

"Now!" We ripped the posters down. Alfred was in such a hurry that he fell to his back and knocked the back of his head to the other wall. I laughed.

"You're nuts, man." Alfred rolled up his poster and put it in the box, I did the same, and then we both closed it and sat down in the now empty shack. It was shaking. It was ugly. It wasn't safe anymore. But I loved it, and I think Alfred did the same as he ran his fingers down across one of the walls. I sighed. "I'm going to miss this place." He nodded.

"Yeah, lots of memories."

"You bet." The wind was whistling through the shack. Though it was in the early summer, and though the weather was still warm, I suddenly felt cold and had to shudder. Alfred noticed.

"Cold?" he asked, and I nodded a bit. He crawled across the box and sat down next to me. He placed his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned into him and his warm body. It felt just right that way. I could hear his deep heartbeat, and it warmed me up instantly. My fingers dug into his white shirt, and his muscles moved underneath it and made me smile. His fingers on my shoulder started to pat down my arm, and when he reached my elbow, I looked up at him. He was also looking at me. His glasses were a bit dirty, but still I could see how his blue eyes were shining. His blonde hair was lying down due to the heat, some of his locks were sticking to his cheeks and ears. His front teeth were resting on his lower lip, and when he breathed in, his lower lip rose a bit and showed two of the sugary squares off.

He looked wonderful, and I didn't know what to do nor say, but I didn't have to, because he grabbed my hand and moved it from his shirt to his chin, and then he leaned down and kissed me, so gently that I couldn't believe it. We were always quick, ravishing each other, but this time he almost guided me around slowing down the process as his lips slipped across mine and his tongue gently dug into the corners of my mouth to taste me and let me taste him. I could feel the spit sticking to his lips. I could hear how it made a sound when he moved a bit back and let our lips part, just to move back in again to kiss me. The hot air from when he breathed out slipped across my skin, and I shivered in delight and pressed myself closer to him. I didn't want to let go. I wanted to keep this shack with him in it and just stay here. As I tried to get us even closer together, Alfred pulled me up to sit astride his lap, and I rubbed into him as I started to return the kiss, letting my tongue peek outside and press to his. It was a thrilling feeling. We'd done it all before over and over again, but never like this.

The blood in me was boiling. I could hear Alfred whispering my name in between our kisses, and as I opened my eyes and looked into his, I could see such a clear need in him that I couldn't make myself deny it. I wasn't even sure if it was his need or my own reflected in his glasses, but he didn't even have to ask for permission. I just nodded and reached down to unzip his pants, and he did the same with me, never breaking our eye contact. There was a lot of things I wanted to tell him, and I am sure he had a lot of things he wanted to say back to me, but we didn't speak a word in that moment. I grabbed at his bulge and then unwrapped his cock from those partly torn, dirty boxers, and he tugged me out in the open as well, and before I could get around protesting, he pressed us closely together and started to jerk both of us off. His throbbing, hot shaft was slipping against mine. I'd never felt anything like it. We'd stopped kissing. Instead I was panting lightly, and my hand on his cheek started squeezing his flesh as he got me worked up. Alfred licked his lips and leaned his head back against the wall, and I leaned in to follow him, pressing my knees to the floor. The shack was shaking. I just hoped it would last. I couldn't stop us now to be logical or smart. I needed this. I hid my nose at his neck, and he let go of a moan right next to my ear, and to help both of us along, I started wriggling around in his lap, making him squirm underneath me. His glasses were digging into my chin. My lips were closed around a part of his skin. His hands were on us, and my hands on his back, holding onto him. It all went too quick compared to the first kisses, but we couldn't keep it up for long. We had both wanted this for a long time, we'd both been desperately waiting for the other to just give into his desires, but now it had finally happened, and neither of us could blame the other. We were both at fault for our lust.

When I came, it was with a groan, and I shivered into his hand. Quickly he followed along with a deeper moan, and I hugged him as close as I possibly could. I was sweating. I could feel drops of smelly water drip down my eyebrows, my eyelids and my cheeks, but it didn't matter. Alfred was sweating as well, and it was pleasant to be able to smell and taste him so strongly. As my breathing was calming down, I licked up some of the sweat on his neck. He chuckled breathless.

"I want to do that again," he said shyly, and it felt so silly that I had to laugh. I pecked his ear.

"But next time in a bed," I said and leaned back so I could look him in the eyes. He took off his glasses, looked down at the mess between us and smiled:

"Roger."

* * *

We cleaned up in silence with dumb grins on our faces. Whenever I looked at Alfred, I felt my cheeks heat up, and whenever our eyes met, we both chuckled and then looked away. As if we were girls in love. I couldn't fully comprehend the bubbly feeling inside of me as we pecked lips just before opening the door and climbing out, but I could easily comprehend his last words to me before I headed back home:

"I really enjoyed that." I did as well. I took a long, warm shower, singing away and rubbing soap all over myself, imagining that it was Alfred's hands on me and not my own. Not even packing down my last belongings could bring my lips to turn downwards, and when I found the water gun he'd given me on the very first day we met, I could only sit down and laugh and laugh and laugh.

The next morning I cried. Dad wanted to tell me to belt up, but Mom quickly pushed him to the van and followed him, leaving me alone in front of the house with Alfred. Though the sun was shining, he was wearing his thick bomber jacket, and he was sweating away. I tugged at one of the big sleeves.

"It fits you better now than it used to," I said and took in a shaky breath. I still had tears down my cheeks, and I wanted to stop crying, but the water just kept flowing. Alfred nodded.

"It does."

"I'll miss you."

"You know I'll miss you as well…" He reached forward, but I took a step back.

"My parents," I said sadly, and he nodded.

"Right…"

"I want to drive before it gets dark!" Dad yelled from the car. Mom told him to shut up. I dried my cheeks off in my shirt.

"I have to-" I whispered and gestured back towards the van. Alfred nodded. His blue eyes were covered with a certain darkness I hadn't seen in them before, but I didn't dare to comment on it. I'd wanted to see him sad. Now it was clear to me that he was just that, and somehow I regretted ever wanting to let him have such a gloomy face. It didn't fit him. He was supposed to smile and be happy and joyful. Not depressed. I dried my cheeks off once again and laughed fake. "Look at me. All crying and shit… Man…" I shook my head.

"I'll come by soon," Alfred said. I nodded and stepped forward, but I didn't want to hug him all heartily in front of Dad, so I just patted his shoulder.

"Do that. Bye," I said, then turned around and walked towards the van. Every step felt heavy, and I closed my eyes and took in a shaky breath. Why did I have to cry? Why did I have to be this girly? Why did my shoulders suddenly feel very heavy? I opened my eyes and looked down my arms, just to see the arms of a jacket hanging down across them. I pulled the jacket off and took a look at it. It was Alfred's bomber jacket. I blinked and turned around. He was standing behind me with a smile on his lips.

"Remember?" he asked, and suddenly his voice turned to a whisper: "I was supposed to give it to a loved one." I bit my lower lip. I wanted to thank him, hug him, kiss him! - but he merely patted my shoulder, said a quick 'see you' and then turned around and ran to his house. I hugged the jacket to my chest as I slowly backed to the van, got in next to Mom and then started howling like mad.

"All that because of a jacket," Dad sneered and turned the motor on. Mom didn't say anything. I put the jacket over my head so that they couldn't see my red, teary face as I kept crying all the way to our new flat and new life in the city, leaving behind an old village with an old love in it.


	16. 16

Moving turned out to be much harder work than I had expected. In the weeks up to the summer vacation Mom and Dad had been cleaning out the flat, painted the walls and ceilings, fixed a frame around a window and generally tried to make everything seem nice. But there was still a lot to be done by the time we moved in our furniture, but we didn't have the time to fix everything. The buyers of our old house had been promised the place empty on the first day of vacation, so we'd been forced to put everything into the new flat though it really didn't belong there yet. Especially my room was a mess as my parents had focused on the living room and kitchen. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the old paint was peeling off and needed to be refreshed, nor that the lamp in the ceiling had its cords hanging out.

"We'll get it fixed soon," Dad said to me when I pointed it out, and I stacked my packing boxes and waited like a nice, little boy for him to get the time. Days passed by, and Dad had suddenly gotten busy with putting up new, green tiles in the bathroom. So I turned to my Mom instead.

"Just wait a minute, I just need to take a look at the kitchen," she said, and I nodded and sat down in the living room to watch TV. The morning, afternoon and evening news passed me by before she came around remembering me, and she kindly postponed my room to the morning. And in the morning she would say: "Just wait a minute, I just need to take a look at the bedroom," and it all just seemed to repeat itself. I had been told not to paint myself, because my Mom was sure I was some kid who would get paint in my eyes, and my Dad mumbled something about the brain and fumes. Still, as two weeks had passed and neither of them had had the time to help me, Dad handed me a brush and a large bucket.

"Just don't get anything on the floor," he said, and I made sure to cover everything up with newspapers before painting my walls light blue. It was a colour I had chosen myself, because I wanted for it to clash with the yellow I would put up on the end wall. I wanted for it to look like a Sex Pistols CD, and I had collected the posters and everything to go with it. The shirt Alfred gave me on my birthday years ago was going up as well, something I knew he wouldn't notice, but which I could appreciate every day.

I thought a lot about when I would get the time to see Alfred again. He didn't live _that_ far away, but by train and bus it would still take around an hour to get to the village, and I wasn't sure I could even afford it these days. I wouldn't ask my parents for the money, because they had already agreed on paying the expense of my travelling back and forth to high school which was going to be quite a ride every day. Before they'd told me about moving, Alfred and I had gotten enrolled in the same high school, and we'd been all excited for staying together for at least two more years, so as I was told about moving, I'd insisted on them not changing my school as well. Mom had told me I was being silly, and Dad said that back when he was a child, he didn't argue with his parents about these matters. I answered that we didn't live in the 18th century anymore, making him all upset and angry. It took a lot of bickering, but we came to an agreement; they would pay for me the first year, and by the second year I would be old enough to go there by bike. I liked that arrangement, because I was pretty sure that in a year, they would've forgotten all about bikes and age and just keep paying for my bus tickets.

Instead of seeing Alfred I just waited for him to come and visit me. The first three weeks he couldn't, since we weren't done moving in all our stuff, but by the fourth week he and his parents went on a trip to Scotland, and I was left alone with nothing to do. "Go make some friends," my Dad said as if that was just done without troubles, but he'd gotten tired of listening to my punk music, so he handed me my jacket and locked me out of the flat.

"When can I come back in?" I asked and kicked the door.

"For dinner!"

"What about tea time?" I whined. He didn't answer. Upstairs someone opened their door, and as I looked up, I could see an old woman with curly hair and scared eyes looking back down at me.

"Is there a fight going on?" she asked me in a whisper, and I shook my head.

"I've just been locked out." She pressed her fingertips to her lips.

"Should I call the police?" I smiled wryly and put on my jacket. It was a short black one which I had spent ages decorating with badges and small studs. Her eyes widened even more when she noticed it.

"No, I'll be fine."

"What a… yob!" she said and disappeared back into her flat. I laughed and made my way out. It was the same old woman who'd called my Dad a ruffian on four wheels when he parked his car across two spaces. My Mom was the only one in the family she liked. She pitied her for being part of a hooligan-family. I stopped by the end of the stairs and looked at the list of names that hanged by the door to help out the postman. I found her name on the bottom of it.

"Miss Johnson," I read out aloud. "Allison Johnson." There was no male name next to hers. I supposed no man could stand living with such a creature. It wasn't like she was lonely, though. Just next to her lived Miss Sandy Henderson, another aged lady who loved gossiping and home baked cookies. Compared to Allison, though, she embraced the world and loved meeting strangers. She seemed to be good friends with the Indian family on the ground floor despite their noisy baby twins, and as I was moving in my bed with Dad last week, I saw her and the Indian man reading a newspaper together while snickering like teenagers.

Besides the two ladies, though, all names on the list were of married families with children. I supposed it was because the rent was cheap and attractive for the ones with less money on their hands, because the neighbourhood wasn't exactly one for children. Being so close to the factories there were often a lot of noises and trucks passing by, and the little playground in between the complexes was hardly enough of a draw to make anyone leave their old home to come here instead. I wondered just how difficult our economic situation had to be since we'd decided to move here, and it made me feel so bad that I had to shrug the feeling off of me. After all we were already doing better. Back in the village, I had asked Dad if I could get a new book on the royal family, and he'd completely ignored my existence. Now he'd asked me if I wanted it as a moving-in gift which had made me not only happy, but also relieved. I was missing the village, but I'd come to accept that it was more important for my parents to do well than for me to live close to a football-field.

I strolled down alongside the complexes while I tried to recall my last evening of football together with Alfred. He'd been so cheeky and silly, and I'd loved every second of it. I almost wished he'd given me his dirty shirt instead of his jacket, just because the smell of him would be stronger. But I knew it would disappear more quickly than this absorbed smell of him that was in the jacket. I slept with it every night like a duvet, the first few nights crying my eyes out into the sleeves, but these nights just enjoying the smell as a nice memory. It had been such a nice gift from him, and I wanted to give him something back, but I simply had no idea what that should be. Nothing was really so Arthur Kirkland like that Alfred would think of me every time he looked at it."I am way too common," I mumbled and walked out of the parking lot and made my way down the dirty pavement towards the shops. I was wondering if I should make him a special drawing, but it just seemed way too girly, and at the thought of something girly, I came to ponder if Alfred was trying on a kilt right now and listening to the sound of bagpipes. It made me laugh, and I didn't really look around as I crossed the street, and suddenly I collided with something. My first thought was a car, but a car isn't soft and it doesn't say:

"Excuse me!" My hands scraped along the asphalt, and the soft person underneath me started to wriggle. I blinked and looked confused at the golden hair waving in front of me, the soft, blue eyes underneath the locks and black spectacle-frame shining up at me. My heart skipped a beat.

"Why have you-"

"Please, get off of me. Please!" I quickly got onto my feet and couldn't help but to give the boy underneath me a disappointed look. In a second I'd believed him to be Alfred, but now I could clearly see that he was not my friend. His hair was longer and cleaner, his face a bit too chubby and his body soft like a baby's. He was wearing a thick sweater with red elks on it and fitting, blue jeans. He was hugging a paper bag closely, and as soon as I'd gotten up, he sat up and looked into it. "Oh no!" he cried, and then turned around and started to pick up apples from the ground. It wasn't until then I noticed that he'd dropped fruit everywhere, and I quickly gathered a few bananas and some pears for him.

"Sorry, I didn't see you," I said as I dumped the fruit back into his bag. He stumbled onto his feet and corrected his glasses.

"I'm pretty used to that," he said and sounded bitter. I pursed my lips.

"Sorry?" I repeated. He bended over and picked something off of the ground and held it up in the light.

"Did you drop this?" he asked me and turned the fat, sharp stud around. I checked my sleeve before snatching it out of his hand.

"Yeah, thanks," I said and held it down to my sleeve where it had been stuck before. Now there was only a hole and some threads hanging out. I snorted. "Now I need to redo thi-… is that blood?" I rubbed the stud with my thumb, and some dark-red liquid was spread across the skin. The guy in front of me checked his hands and then held out his left one as he whined:

"I'm bleeding!" I looked down. The stud had ripped a rather long, small scratch all the way across the palm of his hand. It was dripping blood and looked gross, but it was nothing compared to the injuries Alfred sometimes got when playing football. I curiously dug my nail down across a piece of dirt that had gotten stuck in the scrape, but the guy ripped his hand away from me and kicked my foot. "That hurts, you moron!"

"I was only checking it!" I said defending myself and wiped my hands off in my pants.

"By making it bigger?"

"By peeling out a stone!" He checked his hand.

"There are no stones in there!"

"Oh, then your vein probably swallowed it up, and it's now diving through your body." He looked at me with his eyes big and scared.

"You think so?" he asked in a whisper, and I shook my head and clapped his shoulder.

"I'm joking. I live close-by - do you want to come get it cleaned?" I could tell he was debating with himself whether to follow me home or not. As I let go of his shoulder, he straightened up a bit while holding onto his hurt hand, his bag of fruit now stuck underneath his right armpit. As I reached out for it, he stepped to the side and nodded.

"Okay. If you have a plaster."

"I have plenty," I assured him and started to walk back across the street towards the buildings I had just left. He bit his lower lip and hesitated for a second, but then he came running up to me and humbly stumbled along by my side. He didn't say anything, so I tried to be friendly: "Nice sweater." He looked down himself and then just nodded.

"My Mom made it."

"Alright." I turned in around the fence separating our small parking lot from the road and continued towards the middle complex. The guy was looking around.

"Is this where you live?" I nodded.

"Yeah, where are you from?"

"The residential area at the harbour." I raised my brows.

"Really? That's a nice place." He nodded and looked somewhat proud. I checked him out again before looking towards the flat. His family had to be pretty well off to live in that neighbourhood. It was a place mostly for the wealthy, old couples, and the few times Dad had driven us through there, I hadn't seen any children, just wrinkles everywhere. "You're far from home then."

"I just went to visit a friend." I opened the door leading into the stairway and held it open for him. He stepped in, but he didn't start walking up the stairs before I did. He took in a deep breath. "What's that smell?"

"It's probably from the laundry room," I said and pointed to the door on the ground floor leading deeper into the building. "The ladies upstairs wash with some weird, purple soap that stinks." I skipped up the stairs. The lad followed me less eager, and by the time reached me, I was already knocking to get in. Dad hadn't unlocked the door since I left. "Dad?" I called and got no answer. I kicked the door. "Dad!" Then I heard some heavy noises.

"I told you to come back when you'd made a friend!" Dad shouted. I tip-toed to look in through the little window at the very top of the door.

"But I did!"

"Who?" I looked over at the guy.

"What's your name?" I asked in a whisper. He looked at me worried and licked his dry lips.

"Matthew," he said. I turned back to the door.

"I met Matthew! Let us in!" I could hear how Dad hesitatingly sucked in air and then the little click as the lock was opened. I grabbed at the handle and opened up, and Dad stepped out in the very same second to make sure I wasn't telling any lies. He was wearing a pair of loose trousers and a shirt way too little for his round stomach, and as soon as his gaze fell on Matthew, he tugged it down to cover his navel with shyness showing on his face.

"Oh," he mumbled and shrugged a bit, "hey."

"Hey," Matthew squeaked. Dad cleared his throat and let go of a cough.

"I'll go back to work," he said to me and quickly disappeared back into the living room. I slipped out of my shoes and smiled at Matthew.

"I'm Arthur," I said. "And don't be bothered by my dad."

"Okay.." Matthew put his bag with fruit down and untied the laces on his new, shiny sneakers. I lined my old boots up by the door and couldn't help but feel a tad jealous. It had been quite a while since I got new footwear. When Matthew put his sneakers next to my boots, there was no doubt that his were quality-shoes and expensive compared to my cheap ones.

"I think we've got some plaster in the bathroom," I said and opened the second door on my left. It led out into our small, green bathroom which could hardly squeeze in the tub that had been placed in it. I stepped into it and opened the cupboard hanging by the window. Matthew looked in at me, still holding onto his bag of fruit as if it would save his life. I shortly peeked at him over my shoulder. "You can wash your hand first," I suggested, and he nodded and obediently went to the sink to clean his scratch. I rummaged through bottles of perfume and packs of sanitary towels as I searched for something I could use to cover up the scratch with. I finally spotted a rolled up line of plasters in the very back of the mess. "Got it!" I grabbed the roll and turned around, just in time to see Matthew nervously washing his palm and looking for dirt. I grabbed a scissor and closed the cupboard with an indulgent smile on my face. "I really was joking earlier," I said. Matthew stared at me and then smiled with a snicker.

"I know, I am just making sure…" He turned the tap off and gently wiped his hand off in the towel. I rolled out the plaster and cut off a piece.

"Here, let me see your hand." He held it forward, and I felt a little bit guilty when I noticed how deep the scratch was. All cleaned up it was easier for me to see the red, cut flesh, and I gritted my teeth together not to make a face or say something that would make Matthew more nervous than he already was. "Again, sorry," I said and firmly rolled the plaster out on his palm. I rubbed down at the line of glue to make sure it was stuck. Matthew tried bending his fingers in.

"It's alright. It'll grow good," he said, but he didn't sound so sure. I put the scissor and the plaster away again and climbed out of the tub to wash off my own hands. Matthew leaned against the doorway. "Have you just moved in here? I haven't seen you around before," he said.

"Yeah, it's about four weeks ago," I nodded and dried my hands off. "How old are you?"

"14.. And you?"

"15," I smiled, but then I quickly corrected myself: "Wait, 16." Matthew seemed amused.

"You don't know how old you are?"

"Well," I said and stretched my arms above my head, "this year I haven't had a proper birthday because of moving, so I forgot." I was even telling the truth. It had all been very rushed, and on the morning of my birthday I had just been handed over the presents and been told 'happy birthday'. I hadn't even celebrated anything with Alfred as I normally did. I'd come to look at the jacket as his gift to me, but that meant that I still had to come up with something to give him back.

Thinking about Alfred reminded me of something else. I gave Matthew a careful look and then cleared my throat. "Uh, my last name is Kirkland," I said, and he seemed confused. "What's yours?" I rested my thumbs in the pockets of my jeans and expected for him to say 'Jones', but instead he shrugged:

"It's Williams. I'm Matthew Williams." I smiled wryly. I should've known. Just because they looked alike, there was no connection between Alfred and Matthew. Still, I couldn't help but to feel like that there was something I should know that would explain it all, but I tried to ignore the feeling. Matthew scratched his plaster awkwardly. "So-uhm, I should be on my way," he said.

"Yeah," I nodded, "uh, unless you want to stay over?" Matthew looked at me nervously, as if this was something I had planned all along, and now I had dragged him into my conspiracy.

"Stay?"

"Yeah." I walked out of the bathroom and opened the door to my own room so that he could see there was nothing murky about it all. He looked in. "I don't know anyone around here. It would be nice to have a mate," I pressed on, and as Matthew heard the word 'mate', he seemed to brighten up as if I had just praised him silly.

"Oh, I would like that!" he said. I grinned and grabbed the bag of fruit out of his hands as he was momentarily distracted.

"I'll put this in the fridge then, and make us a cup of tea." Matthew nodded happily, and though he was far from the blokes I would normally become friends with, I somehow felt I was doing the right thing, and it felt fantastic.

* * *

Despite being younger than me, Matthew was quite bright, and him and I easily stroke up a friendship. I found it quite nice just sitting with a cup of tea and talking, because for once I was hanging out with someone who just learned to know me as I was, and not as I could be or looked like being. At school hanging out with Evan's friends had made the other students look at me and talk to me in a certain way as if they already knew who I was, but Matthew knew nothing besides the fact that I owned a roll of plaster, and that wasn't exactly something he could pinpoint my character with.

Matthew was easily worried and easily fooled, but also easily entertained, and I didn't have to make much of an effort to make him smile, laugh or tell stories. He soon told me that he didn't have many friends, but I wasn't sure I believed him, since he seemed to be very easygoing and nice to be around. "But I am not anything special," he said as I walked him to the bus stop later that day, "people forget about me." He left me to ponder if I was anyone special that people remembered.

One guy did remember me, though - Alfred. He hadn't let me know when he would return from Scotland, and in the week he was gone I had kept myself busy talking with Matthew. Though he lived by the harbour, he came to town almost every day to meet up with people or buy groceries for his mom, and he would come by my flat to say hello every time. He'd done so the very same Wednesday that Alfred returned from Scotland and decided to pay me a visit. I was in my room with Matthew going through a book on the Beatles as Mom knocked on my door.

"You've go a visitor," she said, and I wrinkled my brows and looked at Matthew as if he would know who it was.

"I thought you said you knew no one around here?" he said ponderingly, and I nodded and got onto my feet.

"I don't, only you," I said and opened the door to walk out into the hallway, but before I got the chance to step out, Alfred flung himself at me and knocked me back down onto the floor.

"Surprise!" he cried, and I moaned in pain as the back of my head had been smacked to the floor.

"Oh good Lord-" I grumbled and sat up. Alfred kept his heavy body sitting astride of my legs, preventing me from getting up.

"Look what I got you!" he chirped and held forward a small figure. Mom looked in through the door at us before closing it to leave us in peace. Only then did I focus on the figure Alfred was showing me. I took it from him and turned it between my hands. "It's a Scotsman," he informed me, "in a kilt."

"So it is," I said. It was a very stereotyped portrait of a Scot; red hair, red beard, a big bagpipe between his hands and a bag of gold by his feet. Alfred stroke his thumb down it.

"Because they're cheap," he whispered and winked at me. I pursed my lips.

"I think you're exaggerating."

"No, I met a Scottish boy and asked him for some candy, and he didn't give me any."

"Alfred, if I didn't know you, even _I_ wouldn't just hand over candy to you."

"What _would_ you hand over?" Alfred asked me and wriggled his brows suggestively, and I felt my face heat up. I was about to smack him as someone cleared their throat behind me. A shiver went down my spine as I remembered that Matthew was still in the room, and forcefully I shoved Alfred off of me and stumbled back onto my feet.

"Uhm, right, Matthew," I said and pointed to Alfred with my new figure, "this is Alfred, an old friend of mine. And Alfred, this is Matthew-"

"-my brother, yeah, I know," Alfred interrupted me. I nodded. Then I stiffened.

"Your brother?" I repeated and looked between them. Alfred ran his fingers through his hair with indifference showing on his face, and Matthew snorted.

"You haven't told him about me? Why am I not surprised?" Matthew asked, and Alfred grimaced.

"I have," he said weakly, and then looked up at me. "Don't you remember?" I shook my head, but I had a feeling that I should remember.

"But you don't have the same last name…" I whispered, and then it all came back to me. Us on a bench, Alfred speaking of his half-brother in England, the one time ever he mentioned Matthew, and I felt so helpless that I couldn't help but to kick Alfred's legs. "That's more than four years ago!" I said. Alfred rolled away from my kicks and got onto his feet.

"But I _did_ mention him!"

"Yeah, _once_!" Matthew stood up as well.

"I better go home," he mumbled. I grabbed him by the sleeve.

"No, that's not necessary," I said, but he gave me a sweet smile and nodded.

"It is, you two can have fun." He opened the door and walked out. I looked at Alfred, but he just sat down on my bed and started looking around my new room. It made me feel angry with him, most of all because I had no idea what was going on, so I followed Matthew to the door and smacked my own closed. He was sitting on the stairs in the stairway, putting on his sneakers. I walked out to him.

"You're really brothers?" I asked. Matthew hesitated for a second, then he continued tying his shoes.

"Yeah," he mumbled and looked up at me. "But we're far from being good mates."

"Well, I noticed that.." Matthew put on his jacket and got up. I was about to follow him down the stairs, but he stopped me.

"I know the way," he said.

"We're still friends, right?" I asked, and he slipped his fingers down the banister with a small smile on his lips.

"Of course, but now go and speak to Alfred." He looked me in the eyes. I nodded. Then he nodded. Then he left. Through the window I could see his little frame hastily making its way across the parking lot and then disappearing behind the fence. I kept standing for a few more seconds though he was out of sight, and then I let go of a heavy sight and went back in to Alfred. He looked up as I opened the door and then pointed to my back wall.

"It looks cool," he said. I locked the door and walked over to him.

"What's going on?" Alfred sat up with his back to the wall and messed around with a crease in his shirt. He didn't say anything. I jerked at his leg. "Alfred!" The tone in my voice was harsh. Alfred wriggled around, but just as I was about to shout at him, he held his hands up in a defending manner.

"Okay!" he shouted annoyed, and then in a bit more calm voice: "Okay, I will explain." I dropped down next to him and folded my arms as I waited for an explanation. Alfred cleared his throat quite a few times.

"Well?"

"Well…" He reached up over him to the shirt I had put up on the wall. He gave it a little tug and acted as if he was very interested in it. "Matthew and I… well, we're half-brothers, right? We've got the same dad.."

"Which is why you moved here," I helped him along. Alfred nodded and peeked at me.

"Something like that," he said. "He doesn't like Matt's mom, but he does like Matt."

"But you don't like Matthew." Alfred laughed ironically.

"He doesn't like me either!" He started fiddling with a lock of his hair. I sighed and reached out to tug at his arm. As my fingers made contact with it, he seemed to stiffen, but then he slowly melted into my touch and shyly leaned in closer to me. "This is not what I imagined our reunion would be like," he mumbled like a child, and I couldn't help but to laugh and move over to wrap my arms around him.

"We're not starring in a movie, Al." Alfred rested the back of his head to my chest and stretched his legs. I noticed he had a hole in his right sock. His big toe was peeking out.

"Mom has been very sad," Alfred whispered, and my laughter quickly died out. I could feel him tensing up in my arms, and worried I held onto him more tightly as if he was going to run away. His own arms slipped up across mine and pressed them to his chest. "Dad didn't know at first, so she didn't know at first. I don't think she was supposed to know." Alfred's fingertips ran down my wrists. I tightened my hold even more and held my breath. I could hear how Alfred was fighting with his own to make it sound steady as always, but something about it wasn't right. "He got a letter when Matt was four years old, and then he had to tell Mom. I don't think… heh, I don't think they knew I was listening. Or that I understood what was going on. But I did."

"Was she mad?" I asked in a whisper.

"She was furious," Alfred answered. "But… more sad. Just very, very sad. I think she thought about divorcing Dad. I don't know, but I think she did. Then he didn't want to have anything to do with Matt, and it made her _angry._ So he contacted them, and all," he gestured out into the air, "of this happened. It took five years, but here we are."

"You moved here because of Matthew?" I asked, just to be sure, and Alfred snorted.

"I don't know what the hell they were thinking," he mumbled, and I could feel an anger to each and every of his words, "I have tried to ask them, but they just never really speak openly. Mom says she needed to start over, but this isn't really starting over, is it now?" His fingers slapped back onto my arms, and his nails dug into my flesh. I buried my nose into his golden hair. "Matt is greedy," he mumbled, "look at how well he's off. He doesn't need my Dad to provide for him, he doesn't even need my Dad. His mom has a new man, she's had him for years. He's just greedy." I wanted to tell Alfred that he was wrong. I wanted to let him know that Matthew was sweet and kind and caring, and that he didn't seem to think much about the money his mom had. I wanted to let him know that there's a difference between wanting a father figure, and wanting your actual father. I wanted to point out how illogical he was being.

But then I just felt sad, because it occurred to me that I really knew very little about Alfred. Surely, I knew he liked football and chocolate and lesbian porn, but I wasn't sure how his life before he came to England had been like, and now it seemed I didn't even know about his current life. There was so many unspoken words to this story, but I felt that even if I asked all the questions I could come up with, and even if Alfred answered each and every one of them, I still wouldn't get closer to the truth, to his feelings nor to an understand of how to solve this problem between him and Matthew. I immediately realised that this wasn't something for me to try and solve, but the realisation made me angry and sad, because I didn't want for Alfred to walk around with this kind of hate inside of him. I wanted for him to be happy and joyful. I wanted to be able to make him all of that. But I couldn't.

Our talk about Matthew ended there. Alfred didn't want to speak more about him, and I didn't pressure him into it. We just acted as if the whole scene with the two of them never really took place. Alfred kept acting and speaking as if he had no brother, and Matthew stopped coming over without calling first to make sure that I was going to be alone all day. All fairly I wanted for him to tell his side of the story as well, but he denied to do so.

"Alfred is your best friend," he said when I discreetly started speaking to him about his family, "and I think it's best if you take his side, no matter what he has told you." I found his logic harsh, but painfully right, and soon I also came to act as if Matthew and Alfred weren't brothers, but two friends of mine who just couldn't stand seeing nor hearing about each other. Sometimes I even questioned myself if the story about them was just something I had dreamt, because it didn't fit into my idea of Alfred the happy lad with a fun, caring family.

Another thing that didn't quite fit was the relationship between Alfred and I. After Alfred returned from Scotland, he visited me a lot and also slept over quite a few times, but everything just seemed very different, and it was as if we again didn't dare to really touch each other in more than a friendly way. I could feel how Alfred's body tensed up whenever I tried anything with him, so I often just stopped before we'd even started kissing. I couldn't really blame him for feeling awkward, though. Having my room just next to the bathroom, we could lie at night and hear how my Dad went to pee, and we were woken up in the morning by my Mom taking loud, long showers.

"I do like the place," Alfred whispered to me one night, "but it's very different." I could only agree with him on that. Everything was quite different.

* * *

Around the end of August and just a few days before high school was to start, we had taken a stroll down to the playground in between the complexes to get a little away from my family and just hang out. We were playing on the seesaw and pretending to be children again by joyfully squirming every time we were lifted up into the air. I started to feel a bit sore in my legs though from pushing Alfred up, and he heavily sat down and just watched me hanging in the air for a while. I leaned against the handle and looked down at him.

"Are you ready to start school?" I asked him, and he shrugged.

"I don't know. Are you?" I took in a deep breath and looked over at the swings. Two girls had just been using them, but they left as Alfred started throwing sand at me. They probably though we were up to no good. Now the swings were just swinging lightly back and forth in the breeze.

"I'm a bit scared," I admitted, and Alfred snorted loudly. I stuck my tongue out at him. "You are too!" I claimed.

"I am not," he said and pushed himself up. I dropped back onto the ground and stuck my heels down the sand to keep him up in the air.

"No? You seem like it." Alfred didn't answer. He kicked his feet around, and I shoved him back down. We started to go up and down again by a low pace.

"Maybe just a bit."

"Is it about getting friends? You easily make friends."

"I know," he said, "it's not that."

"And I'll help you with homework."

"Yeah, but what about us?" The question came as a surprise to me. Alfred dropped to the ground and this time he was the one to stick his heels deep into the sand to avoid me from coming down again. I blinked.

"Us?"

"Yeah," he said and rested his elbows against the seesaw. He rested his head between his hands and shrugged. "Will we still… I mean, can we still…" I waited for him to finish, but I could feel my hearth rhythm go up with every second he hesitated. "Right now we're very, you know… not close, but will we still in high school-"

"Alfred," I said calmly, though I felt everything but calm. "Do you want us to still be like, uh, like before moving?" He nodded. I took in a deep breath and smacked my chest to make my heart start beating steadily again, but it was as if it didn't want to. It made me feel weirdly happy to hear him actually tell me this, and I couldn't help but to wonder if this was why he'd been acting a bit off lately. I put my hands forward on the balk. "Stay down, I am coming," I said, and Alfred's feet went deeper into the sand. I raised myself from the seat and slowly started to crawl down towards him. When I reached the middle of the seesaw, I sat down astride of it and shoved myself down the rest of the way. I ended on the other side of Alfred's handle and grabbed onto it. "Have you worried about that?"

"Well, a bit," he mumbled, and then he sent me a cheeky smile. The sun was shining in his glasses. "I mean, I do like it when we do stuff."

"I do too," I admitted bluntly, and I could see how his cheeks got a bit more red. I clapped my hands onto them as I looked him in the eyes. "I know I have moved," I said, "and that we're starting all over again now, with friends and all and don't feel like you have to come over all the time, man, because I know you play sports too and all-"

"But?" Alfred whispered, and I smiled brightly.

"But I still want to be your best friend. And I still want to, eh…"

"Do stuff," Alfred said, and I nodded.

"Yeah, and kick you when girlfriends take away your time." Alfred's face went serious.

"I probably will get a new girlfriend, Arthur. You do know that, right?" I probably should have felt more offended by his honesty than I did. But I just couldn't be surprised anymore. It hurt inside of me when he said things like that, because I had slowly come to accept Alfred as the one guy I would ever want to get this close to, and still I wasn't enough for him to do it the other way around. I kept telling myself he just needed time. I just couldn't help but to wonder how long time I could offer him before giving up. But instead of telling him all this, I just smiled forgiven and looked down.

"I know," I mumbled. "Just don't get a new best friend."

"I won't," he immediately promised me. Then he looked around, and as he was sure there was no one looking at us, he cupped my face and gave my lips a short, warm kiss. It was more like a touch of his breath upon my face, but it still left me grinning silly. "I wouldn't want to give that jacket to anyone else," he whispered, and my face heated so much up that I had to look away. I spotted the bomber jacket in the grass where I had put it as Alfred had started throwing sand. I pushed him down from the seesaw and the skipped off it myself before walking over and picking it up.

"It fits me better now than it used to be," I said and put it on. The sleeves were made for a man with more muscles than me, and the same went for its width, but when I zipped it up and turned to Alfred, he looked as if I was just the right man to fill it out.

"Yeah, maybe in a few years you'll also have the height for it," he teased me and tugged at one of the sleeved. I kicked his leg.

"Grow a pair."

"So I'll have four? Gross."

"If you grow a pair and a cock you can have two girls at once." He seemed to give it a thought. I rolled my eyes and grabbed him by the hand. That made him come back to reality. "Want to follow me up and check if anything new has happened down there?" I suggested. The excitement in his eyes was clear. He didn't even care enough to make a smart reply, he just nodded. "Okay, we have an hour before my Mom gets home," I informed him and let my fingers slip in between his, and we held hand on our way back, Alfred excited about zipping down his pants, me excited about keeping my four-balled guy to myself.

* * *

On the 31st of August beloved princess Diana passed away. I couldn't make myself leave the television. Mom sat distressed in the sofa and cried angrily, and I merely sobbed in disbelief, because I didn't want for it to be true. Alfred had come over to hang out, but I couldn't even really pull myself together to explain to him that it was probably best if he went home again. He just walked around the flat without really knowing what to do, and sometimes he peeked in through the door to the living room to check on me before he went back to my room to sit and ponder.

"You should do something about Al," Mom told me, and I nodded, but I didn't get up from the sofa anyway. When Dad came home, he went straight in to sit with Mom, and he handed me a bag on his way.

"I did promise you that book," he said, and when I opened the bag and looked down at the picture on the front and I saw the smiling face of Diana, I started to howl. Alfred had by that time started to put on his shoes and jacket, but I stumbled out and stopped him from leaving.

"This is important to me," I said and held the book up for him to see. He hesitated and looked from the book to me. "If you want to," I said and sniffled, "you can stay and listen to her story." I pointed to princess Diana's picture. "If you want to."

"I don't really get all of this…" Alfred admitted, but he did put his jacket back down. I grabbed his hand and nodded towards my room.

"It's okay. If you want to, I can make you understand," I said, and then, as if I couldn't control myself, the book fell to the floor, and I had to hold onto Alfred's arm not to fall as well. He seemed surprised, and I was surprised as well, but as I looked up at him, the tears slipped from my eyes and I heard myself whispering: "Right now I just can't stand being alone." Alfred sucked in a deep mouthful of air, but then he nodded and picked up the book for me.

"Okay," he said and handed it back to me, "tell me the story." I looked down at the shiny front page.

"It starts with a young girl named Diana Spencer," I said as I slowly backed towards my room. "The year is 1961 in Norfolk, England…"


	17. 17

My new school consisted of two big, brown buildings put together like a L. It wasn't a pretty place when you looked at it from the outside and just saw the dirt clinging to the bricks and the stuffed trash bins by the entrance, but I'd chosen it because of the good teachers, and Alfred had been eager as well because the school had the best facilities for PE in the area. When I had heard that reasoning for becoming a student there, I had realised just how different we'd grown to be. I had decided to be humanistic in my studies, but Alfred went for all the subjects I considered difficult and confusing. Not only had he freely picked PE, but also mathematics, biology and chemistry. I had almost felt embarrassed when telling him that I would "only" be studying English language and literature, sociology, history and art. Still he hadn't made fun of me.

"You're good at drawing!" was his first comment, very opposite to my Dad's which had been:

"Drawing unicorns doesn't make you an artist." Generally Dad was opposed to art and everything artistic such as writing, photography and sculpturing. I supposed it was because he was from a family of plumbers and master builders. I know he had a brother who became a psychologist and thereby broke the family tradition, but at all the family dinners that were held, everyone spoke of him as the 'uppish twit' who couldn't 'tell the difference between a cord and a water pipe' Dad always said that his son for sure would never choose that way in life, and I never dared to embarrass him in front of his relatives by letting him know that I planned to study at the university in the future.

So far I had made it to high school, and I couldn't help but to feel a bit proud that morning when I walked from the bus stop and through the gate towards my new school. I had stuffed my armpits with deodorant in hopes of not smelling, but still I could feel two patches of sweat at my arms, and I wasn't sure I dared to take off my jacket in case anyone would notice. It was all about making a good first impression so that I wouldn't once again get the role of Alfred's buddy nor the silly punk. I wanted people to know me by name, know my hobbies and know that I was a smart, clever individual who could do close to anything. I had carefully chosen my clothes to tell just that story; my boots had been shined, my jeans stuffed down into them so that it looked a bit careless though I had thoroughly corrected every fold to get the right look, and underneath my leather jacket I was wearing a black turtleneck sweater. I was aiming for casual and cool.

I was to meet up with my tutor group at a quarter to nine, but I was at the classroom already twenty past eight. When I tip-toed and peeked in through the window at the top of the door, I could see the shadows of a few other students in there. I dropped back down to stand on my feet and backed up against the wall behind me for support as I took in a deep breath. I wasn't nervous, because having met so many different people at parties had taught me that no one is really what they brag about being. They colour their hair to stand out and drink alcohol to look grown up, but still they get pissed before midnight, and their dye is washed out with a single shower. The only reason why I was hesitant about entering class was the simple fact that I would now be on my own completely. Alfred and I didn't share one single class together, and I wouldn't be able to hide behind him if anything got out of hand. Befriending Evan had taught me that things very well could get out of hand if I didn't make the right choices, and I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

"Okay," I mumbled and forced myself to walk forward and grab at the door handle, "okay, here I come." I opened the door, stepped in and was met by a silent stare from each and every of the students who had already turned up. They had all placed themselves as far from one another as possible as if they were all infected with some kind of infectious disease, and I couldn't help but to let go of a silly laugh at that thought. One of the girls wrinkled her brows and looked away upset at my grin. I shut the door behind me and scratched my neck. "Hey," I said and tried to smile friendly, but no one answered me. They all looked at each other as if they expected that I couldn't be talking to them, but had to be greeting someone else in the room. One of the boys leaned in over his desk and continued to draw doodles in his sketchbook. I stuttered an: "Uhmm…" Then the door was slammed open. I just had the luck of having stepped an inch too much forward not to be hit by it. Still I stepped aside just to be sure I wouldn't be knocked over, and even I had to give the new fellow quite a stare as he stepped into class.

All in your tutor group share at least one subject together. I had been told everyone in my tutor group was doing art, but the bloke who entered didn't look like the creative, quiet kind of guy you would find in front of an easel. He was tall, had black, wavy hair and broad shoulders like an American footballer. When he turned to face me, I noticed he hadn't shaved properly, and a few stubbles were still showing on his chin. For some reason it annoyed me a bit.

"Sorry, did I hit you?" he asked in an amused voice, and I shook my head shortly.

"No."

"This _is_ Adam's class, right?" I nodded. He closed the door slowly while looking around. "Cool."

"You're doing art?" I asked him almost suspiciously. He scratched his chin shyly and looked at me. I noticed he had a bit of an overbite. His front-teeth rested on his lower-lip when he smiled.

"Yeah, so it seems."

"You look more like a…"

"A…?" I was looking for the right word. I failed to find it.

"A… PE-guy," I said, and he laughed.

"Well, I am!" He started to make his way through the tables towards the windows. I shortly looked at the other still quiet students before following him with a shrug. "I just like art as well." He dropped his bag in the large windowsill and sat down on the table in front of it. I put my bag next to him and pulled out the chair.

"What other subjects do you have?"

"What's your name?" I blinked. The guy placed one of his feet on the chair I'd just pulled out and leaned in over his knee to smile at me while raising his brows questioning. My breath hitched.

"Arthur," I mumbled and looked away. He grabbed my hand and shook it with both of his own.

"I'm Scott, and I do PE, art, music and psychology." I snorted.

"That's an odd mix!" He shrugged.

"Well…" I pushed at his foot. He moved it away, and I sat down on the chair and looked up at him. I noticed he had some deep, brown eyes. Because of Alfred's electrifying blue ones, I had never thought of brown as anything special, but though I didn't know Scott yet, I felt no other colour than this specific brown could look this good on him. He noticed me staring and winked at me, and I quickly looked towards the blackboard. "What other subjects do you have?"

"English language and literature, sociology and history."

"Oh, I love history. If it wasn't for PE, I would've chosen that." Scott slipped down the table to sit on the chair next to me instead. He was still at least two heads taller than me. I rested my cheek in my hand and peeked at him.

"What kind of sport do you do?" I asked.

"I like basketball."

"No kidding." I rolled my eyes, and he laughed. I had to smile. "Are you going professional?"

"No, I am not tall enough," he said, but he didn't sound sorry. He stretched his arms above his head and shrugged. "I am better at baseball anyway. And football. And weightlifting is a lot of fun." I grimaced.

"I feel so lazy next to you, go away." Scott ignored my comment and acted as if he was holding a violin as he moved his arm slowly.

"Music is my passion, though." I sat up more straight at the softness in his voice.

"You play the violin?"

"Ever since I was 6."

"Wow…"

"How about you?" I looked down at the table in front of me and placed one finger on the rough surface.

"I don't really have a hobby like that," I mumbled. I always hated being asked. Everyone were good at something. I was just Arthur. Scott clapped my back in support.

"You have two years to figure out what you want to do. Don't worry," he said. I snorted. He let go of my shoulder. "Suit yourself, I'm just saying it's not too late. What do you like?" I felt somewhat exposed. No one was talking but us, and I couldn't make out if the others were listening or not. I tried to seem smart and said:

"What are you, my therapist?" but regretted as I saw the hurt look in his eyes. I cleared my throat. "I… I suppose I do like drawing. And writing."

"Writing, that's a good one. Ever written poetry?" I shot him a glare just to see if he was making fun of me. Had anyone asked me that in state school, it would've been to expose me as a feminine homo had I said yes. I answered in a low, clear voice.

"No, never."

"Well, you should try!" Scott said with no sign of being biased about me. "My brother is a poet. He sometimes do poetry slamming. It's a lot of fun. You could go sometime." I didn't know what 'poetry slamming' was, but still I knew for sure that no one would want to go with me to something that included writing down your emotions.

"I don't want to go alone," I said dryly.

"Bring someone."

"I don't know anyone who would go somewhere like that," I said, and then I laughed as I thought about bringing Alfred with me to such. I could imagine him being bored to death and starting to jump around like a child to get some action. Scott looked at me weirdly, but then he slammed his hand down onto the table.

"Now, I'm telling you, if you don't know anyone who would go with you, then we can go together."

"I don't know you!" I protested, but still laughing, because it was such an overwhelming kindness he was showing me, and I wasn't sure if I appreciated it.

"I'm Scott, 16 years old, I can't draw, and I love eating salmon." He grinned at me. I chuckled.

"What the hell are you doing in an art class if you can't draw?"

"Making sculptures, I hope."

"Alright," I said and looked towards the door as the teacher suddenly entered. Without me noticing it, the class had been filled with students while I was busy speaking with Scott. I lowered my voice as Adam made his way towards the blackboard. "Alright, Scott, tell me more about… slamming at lunch, ok?" I winked at him. Scott nodded and gave me a thumb up. Adam cleared his throat.

"So… class has now started."

* * *

"Do you know anyone here at school?" I sat down by the big windows in the cafeteria. Scott sat down in front of me. I'd bought a sandwich with sliced eggs. He had bought some yogurt and fruit.

"I know a guy from second year," he answered and took a bite of his apple, "and one of the girls I do music with. Laura. But that's all." He shrugged. "What about you?"

"I only know one guy. We're childhood friends." Scott raised his brows.

"And you're still tight?" I nodded, and he smiled a bit. "It must be nice!"

"Yeah," I admitted. "It is." As he dug into his yogurt, I looked around the room to catch the sight of Alfred. We'd already agreed on meeting after school, but we hadn't spoken about lunchtime. Still I felt like asking him how everything had went so far. Not that I was worried. Alfred was the kind of guy who was easy to like, easy to get along with and easy to befriend. I wouldn't be surprised if he had already found a potential girlfriend.

I must've grimaced at that thought, because Scott poked my arm with his spoon, and I looked back at his pondering face. "Is something wrong?" he asked, and I shook my head and peeled out a slice of egg from my sandwich.

"No," I lied. "Now, what's that slamming-thing about?"

"Poetry slamming," Scott corrected me and smiled deeply. "It's a pretty interesting concept. It's not just about having a good poem, but also a good voice and ability to tell your story and express your feelings." I ate the slice of egg while listening to him. He was gesturing a bit with his hands. "You see, you write your own poem, and then you get on stage at this cosy place where people listen or just hang out. It's normally very relaxed, though sometimes competitions are held. But, well, you get on stage, and then you just tell your poem the most interesting way you can manage."

"Is that all?" I said surprised. Scott laughed.

"All? It's very difficult to capture the hearts of the audience! But it's good practice for anyone. And new guys are more than welcome to try it out." Again, he winked at me. I started to believe he had to have something in his eyes, but then he just looked out of the window with a happy smile. I swallowed my food.

"I would like to listen, but I am not sure about performing."

"That's fine, we could do that some day."

"Where is it at?" Scott was about to answer me as I was suddenly dragged backwards. I cried out as my feet lost contact with the ground, but instead of falling down onto the floor, the back of my head bumped against something hard and warm, and I looked up at Alfred's face hovering above me. He had taken a hold of my chair by the backrest and was smiling down at me with chocolate smudge around his lips.

"Found you!" he said and then let go of the chair so that I dropped back down to sit. Alfred claimed the chair next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. "What's up? Had a good day so far?"

"I know you did," Scott said. We both looked at him. Alfred let go of me and pointed to him with a laugh.

"Scott!"

"Alfred!" Scott mimicked Alfred's voice, and they shortly shoved their fisted hands together in something that should probably be a friendly greeting. I was confused.

"You know each other?"

"We have PE together," Alfred said, "second block."

"Oh…"

"You also know each other?" Alfred gestured between us.

"We have art together," I said, and then seconds later I added: "First block."

"And you know each other?" Scott wanted to know as the last question, and this time Alfred answered:

"Yeah, Arthur is my best mate." I felt a pride swell up inside of me. Scott pursed his lips and nodded.

"Oh, the childhood friend?" he asked me, and I smiled.

"Yeah, that's Alfred." Alfred pointed to himself just to make sure we all knew who he was.

"Well, that's funny. We all have something in common then," Scott said. Alfred stole a slice of egg from my sandwich.

"Yeah, but I am still the one of us who're best at football."

"And best at dirtying yourself," I said and held up my napkin from the cafeteria close to Alfred's lips. "Spit." He glared at me, but did as told, and I used the little wetness to wipe the chocolate off of the corners of his lips. "If you've just had PE, then why are you already eating sweets?"

"Candy," Alfred said and grabbed around my wrist to guide my hand better, but then he simply took over the napkin. "And chocolate is good. It gives you energy. Don't you know that sportsmen drink chocolate milk before working out?"

"I know for sure you do, even when you're not about to work out."

"Haha. Give me a bite." I held up my sandwich. He took a bite off of it. Scott cleared his throat, and only then did I remember he was still sitting there.

"Is something going on I don't know about?" he asked with a wry grin. Both Alfred and I glared at each other and then over at him.

"No," I said, and Alfred added:

"Arthur just nags." I slapped the back of his head. He ripped a big chunk off my sandwich and chewed on it satisfied while leaning back against the window and swinging his feet up onto my lap. I let them be as I continued to eat with my cheeks a bit red.

"How long have you been friends?" Scott asked.

"About… five years," I answered. "Since we were eleven."

"And nothing has managed to come in between?"

"Nope!" Alfred declared loudly, but then he skipped up from his chair as he spotted someone in the crowd. "I'll see you after school," he said and patted my shoulder before running towards someone: "Jennifer, wait up!" I glared in his direction before peeling off a bit of the wet bread from where he had taken a bite. Scott put down his apple core.

"Seems like there is…"

"Alfred has always been popular," I said dryly and took a bite off my sandwich, but I wasn't really hungry anymore. "Especially with the girls."

"I'm pretty popular as well," Scott said and rested his chin ponderingly in his hand. "Music. Girls dig musicians."

"How does your dad feel about you playing the violin?" I asked him and shook my head with a sigh: "If I ever told _my_ Dad that I considered an instrument-!" I rolled my eyes. Scott laughed.

"My family is pretty relaxed. Mom is a psychologist and believes everyone should do what they do best. So Dad plays the saxophone just as much as he works as an accountant, and bro' writes, as I told you. We're creative." I bit my lower lip and couldn't help but to feel a bit jealous. I had wondered if Dad would let me do whatever if I had a body like Alfred or Scott; a manly, muscular one. Maybe then he would think that I'd achieved everything important in life and could just play around. But because I had these long, weak arms and small legs, I was no good. I should've been born as a girl, I jokingly told myself.

"It sounds like a good family," I said, and Scott shrugged.

"I suppose it is."

As we sat there finishing our lunch, I wondered if Alfred had already abandoned me on the first day of school. I'd had this playful dream that if we were to go to the same high school, then we would also hang out at every break and see each other at every possible time of the day. Of course I'd been aware that I was wishing for more than what was possible, especially if I wanted not to be known as his mate but as Arthur Kirkland. Even Alfred had known that it could not be so. He had even said it himself; he strived to get a girlfriend in high school, and possibly he strived to be the well-known, beloved lad whom everyone would praise. This simple longing to be accepted was one I didn't quite get, but also found quite charming about him. I suppose I was just like all the love-struck girls; completely blinded by his being.

Then, as Scott got up to buy himself a muffin and asked me if I wanted one as well, I couldn't help but to question my choice of mate. What was it about Alfred that kept be hanging around? I couldn't pinpoint one thing about his personality that really made him shine, while, without even knowing him, I could find charming contradictions in Scott. He was sporty, but a musician, couldn't stop winking at me and now he also proved himself to be generous as he handed me a muffin and laughed:

"Free of charge!" I peeled the paper off of the cake as I got up and watched him walk towards his next class. I shoved in my chair and took in a deep breath:

"Scott!" He turned around in the doorway and looked back at me. I swallowed harshly and felt as if the whole world was at a standstill for a second, but then I finally got around stuttering: "When's the next slam? Poetry slam…" Scott smiled.

"Friday next week - we can go together after school?" he suggested.

"Okay!" I nodded eagerly. He winked at me and shortly saluted with two fingers before he disappeared out of the door. I sank my teeth into the muffin and licked in a lump of chocolate. On the inside, I felt like a betrayer.

* * *

After school Alfred and I got ice cream and went to eat it at the local park. Neither of us really knew the school's area, so we walked slowly, Alfred holding on to his bike. It was surprisingly warm for September. I had taken off my jacket and stuffed it into my schoolbag, and I was busy licking the dripping ice cream off of my fingers and alongside the cone. Alfred was taking bites of his and grinned every time I grimaced at the thought of how cold it had to be for his teeth.

"I can't feel anything," he told me and took yet a bite of his green ball of pistachio. I'd chosen lemon, just because I knew Alfred didn't like that taste and wouldn't try to eat my ice cream.

"That's because you're eating your tongue numb."

"No I'm not." Alfred licked his lips and pointed to the right. "I think we have to go down here." I followed him across the road and in between two rows of shops. He looked at the old store with sweets. I glanced towards bookshelves on the other side of the road. "How're your classmates so far?"

"I'm not sure," I said honest. "We haven't had the chance of speaking yet. Not really."

"It's easier in PE. We just have fun." I kicked a stone, and so did Alfred. It was like when we were younger and held silent competitions about keeping it going for the longest time possible. I shoved the stone forward with my boot.

"What about the other subjects?"

"I don't know. Biology seems boring. But I don't know yet."

"Who is Jennifer?" Alfred hit the stone wrongly so it skipped out on the road. I licked up my cone and acted as if I didn't see it. My face was pink.

"Just a girl from PE. She's pretty fit."

"Hmm…" I could feel Alfred's eyes on me, but I just kept concentrating on my ice cream.

"Are you jealous?" I laughed loudly. Alfred smiled oddly. "What?"

"You have girls all the time. If I was the jealous kind of guy, I would've exploded by now," I answered. Alfred shrugged.

"I'm just making sure."

"What if I were jealous?" I asked and looked at him with my brows raised. Alfred seemed to have forgotten about his ice cream. It was dripping down his hand and onto the pavement.

"We already discussed this, Art," he said with a surprised look in his blue eyes. "I get girlfriends. I just do. You can get one too if you want to." I had to bite the inner of my cheek not to yell at him that no, of course I couldn't, because breasts were disgusting. But I neither would nor could tell him that. Alfred and I never really discussed sexuality. We just had our fun, and it was probably more important fun for me than for him, and what would happen if he were to find out?

I felt like puking. I looked down at my ice cream and mumbled: "Wipe off your hand." Alfred squeaked as he noticed his treat melting away and quickly started licking his hand. I dumped my cone in the next trash bin we passed.

* * *

It quickly turned out that Scott hadn't lied when he told me he couldn't draw. No matter the help from the teacher, he kept to his comic-like faces of men and women, all of them helplessly cluttered and oddly angled. "I don't think I'll pass this class," he laughed to me at lunch Thursday after class. He was holding a bunch of papers he'd been sketching on all week. I pushed the door out into the schoolyard open and sat down at one of the small, outdoor tables.

"Give it some time, we've just started."

"Alright then," he said and put his things down next to mine, "but it doesn't really matter to me. I think I'll drop out of this class next year."

"Yeah? Will you take up anything new?" He shrugged and looked towards the little field as someone yelled at him. I recognised Alfred's voice and turned around as well. He came running over to us, all out of breath and with his cheeks shiny red. He looked good, I had to admit, all sweaty in the t-shirt he was wearing. Sweaty and dirty. I swallowed and peeked at Scott who seemed indifferent.

"What's up?" he asked, and Alfred wiped his forehead off in his arm.

"Want to play soccer?" The question was naturally aimed at Scott. "We can fit an extra guy in." I silently unpacked my lunch and didn't say a word. Scott shook his head.

"Sounds fun, but I'm doing homework with Arthur." Alfred blinked at me as if he hadn't noticed me before now. He looked surprised.

"Oh. Okay. So you won't play either, Arthur?" I shook my head no. Alfred scratched the back of his head. "Okay. Uhm. See you around, then!" Scott waved at him as he ran back towards the others. Then he sat down next to me. I was poking at the sandwich I had made at home. The tomato I had put into it had soaked the bread.

"Is anything up?"

"You can just go play if you want," I said and looked at him. I smiled a bit. "You know, we're not doing homework." Scott brought forward his own lunch. Yogurt and fruit again.

"I know," he said, "but I'll rather just sit here. Did you have a fight?" I took a bite of my sandwich. "He seemed-"

"We're alright, he's just being a bit of a jock." Scott seemed amused.

"How's that?"

"Oh, it's all about after-school activities and girls."

"Can't you just join in?" I held up my arms.

"Does it look like it? All activities are sport, you know."

"I meant with the girls." I grimaced. I sometimes forgot that was what all other lads were all hooked on and not just Alfred. Girls. I grabbed at my water bottle.

"They don't care much for me," I said as an excuse.

"They would if you gave them a bit of a chance. I am sure."

"Okay, I don't care much for them either." Scott laughed.

"You'll turn into a hermit!"

"If Alfred keeps hanging around the locker room, then yeah, I will."

"Aren't you making yourself a bit of a victim?" I glared at him. He faked a scared face. "Just saying," he said and wriggled his brows. Then he winked at me. I had to chuckle.

"You're not very good at shaving," I said, changing the subject, and I reached out to rub two fingers to the stubbles on his chin. He didn't say anything, he just smiled that sweet, over-bite smile. I dropped my fingers down to my lap. "How is he at PE?"

"Alfred?" I nodded.

"I-I mean… he always says he rocks, but… I'm just wondering what others think and say.." Scott seemed to give it a thought, and I looked down embarrassed. I felt almost as if I was using him to get information, but he didn't seem to think of it that way as he finally answered.

"Well," he said, "he's not the best footballer, though he would like to think so." I smiled wryly.

"I can imagine…"

"And he's the worst goalkeeper ever. But he has a great energy. Not just at football. He likes to be active, and if someone can't do something, then he tries to help them out. Even if he can't do it himself." Scott and I laughed.

"That sounds right!"

"But," Scott said, and his laughter turned into a gentle smile now, "he's never arrogant. I think that's why he's so popular. He likes to show off. But he's not a show off." I almost wanted to point out to Scott that such a sentence was an impossibility, but I got what he meant. Alfred always let me know just how well he did and just how far he'd been running or how he got a goal in something. But he didn't make himself seem better. He only joked, and when joking we were all aware that he was kidding and not being serious. I couldn't help but to wonder how he'd managed not to turn into an airhead.

"Have you become friends?" Scott shrugged.

"Somewhat, I think. He talks to everyone, you know."

"I know," I said and turned the bottle between my hands. "Just wondering…"

* * *

I didn't mind Alfred and Scott becoming friends, but somehow it all seemed a bit awkward. Because Scott liked all the cultural things, him and I had something in common which I felt greatly about whenever we sat down during a break and had a discussion. Though I spoke with my other classmates, they just didn't seem to have the same glow to them as Scott, and I quickly noticed that though Scott spoke with a lot of girls, he, compared to Alfred, seemed willing to leave them behind if he noticed me standing close by. It was a weak feeling, but still a nice one of joy which would spread inside of me whenever he left behind some gentle Ann or beautiful Patricia to speak with small, dull Arthur. Though we had only entered our second week of school, I had the same feeling about him as I'd had about Toris, just much stronger; a feeling of reassurance and that we would fit well together.

I still somehow felt that I was cheating on Alfred. He wasn't really aware of Scott and I hanging out, because he was busy making friends all over the school and joining in on all after school activities. I spoke to him Monday to see if he would hang out, but he had already accepted an invitation to some baseball-guy's home. Tuesday he was busy with a girl (her name was not Jennifer, I noted), Wednesday he had his last block free and didn't care enough to wait for me for two hours, Thursday he wanted to do some sport after school, so as Friday came along, I felt so annoyed and left behind that I didn't even care to try to get in touch with him.

I had just had art and was storming out of the class as Scott caught up with me. "Wait!" he yelled. I stopped and looked over my shoulder.

"Yeah?" He looked confused as he stopped up next to me.

"Don't you remember?" I blinked. "Poetry slamming."

"Oh.." I honestly hadn't remembered. I scratched my cheek and wrinkled my brows. I was in no mood for poetry. Actually, I was mostly in the mood for kicking in Alfred's balls. Apparently it showed on my face.

"If you don't feel like it-"

"But I do," I lied. Scott sighed.

"It's not until tonight anyway. I can come and pick you up at your home instead if you want to get back first?" It was a bit of a relieve. I bit my lower lip and nodded.

"That would be good. Is it in walking distance?"

"More like biking distance, but we'll figure something out." I nodded. Scott kept standing there while other students were passing by. He gave my arm a light pat. "Is it Alfred again?"

"If he want to, can he come along?" I asked. It just escaped my lips. I wasn't sure why I suddenly thought that would be a good idea, but I had a block of desperation building up inside of me. I had promised myself not to become Alfred's pet in high school, but here I was, running after him with my tail wagging. Scott mumbled a surprised:

"Uh, yeah, sure. If he wants to."

"We'll meet at my home. You know my address, right?" Scott nodded.

"I'll be there around… six?"

"Fine. See you." I heard him say something behind me, but I couldn't make out what. I hurried down the stairs to catch Alfred before he would leave for whatever he would be up to today. I got outside just in time. He was standing by the bikes with a girl I hadn't seen before, but I wasn't about to be bothered. After all _we_ had been friends for _five years._ She didn't look like one who had known him for more than five minutes. I walked over to them just as Alfred laughed. "Hey!" I greeted bluntly. The girl looked me up and down. Alfred blinked at me surprised, and he looked a bit flustered.

"Oh, hey Art."

"Are you doing anything this evening?" I asked and tried to sound as casual as possible. "Scott and I are going out. So if you wanted to join…" I didn't finish the sentence. I didn't have to. I could tell from the way Alfred was looking back at the girl that he certainly had plans for tonight.

"I know I've been a bit busy, but… not tonight," he said with a little smile. I felt my heart sink. The girl looked away with a secret smile, and I held on to my bag more tightly.

"Oh… okay…"

"Maybe if you want to do something tomorrow?" he said and unlocked his bike. He started to drag it a bit down the sidewalk. The girl followed him. I didn't answer. Alfred smiled confused. "Okay? Else… just call me, okay? Say hello to Scott from me!" I watched the two of them disappear towards town, laughing and clearly enjoying each others' company. I swallowed a thick lump that had gathered in my throat. Someone gave me a harsh shove to the side.

"Did your boyfriend turn you down, faggot?" Two tall blokes laughed and walked past me, giving me as little space as possible so that I had to step out of their way. I hardly noticed them.

"Fuck you," I mumbled, but I didn't mean them. I was talking about Alfred. "Fuck you Alfred, tomorrow I am busy."

I had no plans for tomorrow. I had no plans for the rest of the year if Alfred was going to behave like this. Maybe it was for the best, I told myself. So I took the bus straight home, took a shower and got changed. I wasn't sure what you wear at poetry slamming, so I just put on something neat. Common, black jeans, a nice, green shirt and a black pullover on top of it. I stole a bit of Dad's aftershave and put on though I didn't have to shave. I wasn't sure why I did it. At the time it seemed very logical. Then I just sat around, waiting for the clock to turn six. Mom noticed me strolling around.

"Isn't Alfred coming over?" she asked me. "I rarely see him." I shook my head.

"He's busy with some girl."

"Aren't you?"

"Scott will pick me up." Mom raised her brows and put her arms akimbo.

"Who's Scott?"

"He plays the violin."

"Oh?" The doorbell rang. I fled to the door to open it before Dad, and I couldn't help but to smile a bit as I saw Scott standing outside. He was wearing a long, black coat, green trousers and black, shiny shoes. He still hadn't shaved properly, but somehow it looked good on him. As he saw Mom behind me, he pulled off the black hat he was wearing.

"Ma'am," he greeted. Mom quirked a brow.

"Me?" she said humoured. I quickly pulled my boots on and was about to grab my jacket. Right next to it was the bomber jacket Alfred had given me. I only wore it at special occasions not to get it dirty and ruined. This was somewhat of a special occasion, but my fingers only shortly lingered at it, then I grabbed my own one of leather.

"We're off," I told Mom and skipped down the stairs. Scott saluted at her and followed me outside. He had parked a shiny blue bike in front of the complex.

"It's not very fancy," he said and patted at the rack, "but, if you dare, it'll be the ride for the evening." I took a walk around the bike as if it was a car I was checking out.

"Very nice," I said. Scott swung a green scarf around his neck and sat astride of the bike. I sat down on the rack and took a hold of his coat. He snorted.

"You have to get a better grip if you don't want to fall off," he said. I hesitated, but then I let my arms slip around his back to his stomach, and I pressed myself closer to him.

"Alfred says hello," I said and leaned my forehead against his shoulder. His long scarf was tickling my nose, and as he started stomping on the pedals to get the bike moving, it fluttered in the light breeze just above my head.

"You should know," he said, "that Alfred isn't the only bloke in this whole world." I looked up at him. He was staring straight forward as he brought the tipping bike up standing straight and started to roll down towards the hill. I lifted my feet to make sure they wouldn't hit the ground.

"Just saying?" I whispered. He smiled, looked over his shoulder and winked at me.

"Just saying."


	18. 18

Though it was in the beginning of autumn, the evening was still warm, and as Scott swung around corners and passed down small streets, I felt myself being heated up though the wind was hitting my cheeks whenever I tried to peek over his shoulders. I had no idea where he was taking me, but somehow I felt it didn't matter. After some time I wasn't even sure I wanted for him to ever stop cycling.

Closed shops and lampposts shining dimly passed us by, and as we passed by the small residential area with their even smaller gardens facing the road, the trees leaning in over the pavement let golden leaves fall down on us like confetti. I caught a big leaf and placed it in Scott's hair. He didn't notice anything, he mostly kept his eyes on the road, but sometimes he would look over his shoulder and give me a soft smile that made the blood in me boil. I felt amazingly happy.

"Do you do stuff like this often?" I asked him after a while and rested my chin against his back.

"Well as said, by brother likes poetry. So of course I go to see him."

"No, I mean," I licked my dried out lips, "I mean, this, like, going there with someone." I could feel his muscles move as he shrugged.

"I don't know.. I have friends who perform. Sometimes, I suppose, but not often?" Though his answer was vague, I still felt assured that he hardly ever picked up mates for a ride like this, and it satisfied me somehow.

"Alright." Scott got off the main road and down an alley. It turned out to be a dead end street. When we reached the tall wall by the end, Scott ran his heels across the ground and brought the bike to a standstill.

"It's here." I looked around. The houses here were tall, and in the dark they looked like giants on a row. I crawled off the cycle rack and got down on the ground.

"But everything here's closed?" I said and glared at the dark display windows across of the street. Scott got off the bike as well and held on to the handlebars with one hand as he waved at me with the other.

"It's in here," he said and went through a gateway. I shrugged and followed him, zipping up my jacket on the way as I was simply sweating. I could smell my armpits and my Dad's aftershave now the smells weren't tossed elsewhere by the wind, and I felt slightly worried anyone would notice. I tried to keep my arms close down my sides and just stood watching as Scott parked the bike inside a backyard. It was small and squared, and it looked like a place where vans would unload their deliveries to the shops on the street. Right now, though, only bikes and a single, blue scooter was parked in here. From the basement light was shining brightly. I walked over to the stairs leading down into the basement of the back building. A handmade pricelist had been put up on the door that was slightly opened, just enough for me to hear people in there talking and laughing. Some tables were moved around. I took a step to the side and tried to peek inside just as Scott's heavy hand was placed on my right shoulder. I looked up at him.

"Down here?" I asked, and he nodded and walked down the stairs. I followed him.

"Yeah, and we're just in time - the show starts in ten minutes." He grabbed at the handle, opened the door and walked in. I leaned in to read the price list before I crossed the threshold and closed the door behind.

"They sell beer," I informed casually.

"Yeah, but we're underage," Scott answered. I rolled my eyes, but I said nothing. If the parties had taught me anything, it was that one beer won't make you a pissed bastard. Still I kept quiet and just mumbled:

"I wanted a soda anyway."

The basement we entered was oblong and only sparsely lit but for on a stage that seemed to have been put up for the event. Two girls were checking out the microphone on stage to make sure that it worked while everyone else were lightly chatting with each other at the tables in front of them. The furniture made me think of a student's flat; nothing fitted together, not two chairs were the same, and it had all clearly been picked up from a thrift shop. Somehow it was charming.

"There's no entrance fee tonight," Scott told me and tugged off his scarf. "Sometimes they make everyone pay a bit, and the winner of the slam will then get whatever was earned that night. But it's just a casual evening." I nodded and started to take off my jacket.

"That sounds fair."

"I think there's a table in the back-" Scott craned his neck to look above the many heads, and I automatically did the same to seem as if I was helping him though I had no chance of spotting anything with my height. I did spot something bright and fuzzy moving towards us, though. Someone stumbled around in between the tables, and just as Scott patted my shoulder and pointed towards some free seats, the person bumped into my side and arms were swung around me in a hug.

"Arthur!" I blinked. Then I was faced with a big pair of blue eyes, and the soft, chubby fingers which closed around mine made me aware that this could only be -

"Matthew!" I chirped back surprised, and then I again, more calmly, smiled: "Matthew." When I'd first met him, he'd looked like a boy who would never become a man but just constantly hide behind others. Though I enjoyed his company, I'd come to believe in that observation of mine even stronger each time we met. There was something childish about him, something very soft and almost feminine despite his age, but as he now took a step away from me and rested his thumbs at his belt as he smiled at me, I felt I saw someone different. He was still in his homemade, big sweater, but his attitude was not the same. He reminded me more of a high school student than a lad who hasn't even finished state school. "What are you doing here?" I asked him, still surprised.

"I'm here to perform my newest poem," he said and looked almost shy, "will you be in the audience?" I nodded and laughed.

"Yeah, yeah I will. Man! I didn't know you wrote poetry?"

"You know each other?" I was reminded of Scott again, but before I could answer, Matthew had grabbed him by the arm and was pulling at it.

"Scott you dirty bastard," he grinned and looked at me as if he was withholding a secret that was just so cheerful he had to snicker. I couldn't help but to feel a bit uneasy.

"It's nothing like that," Scott said, "we're in the same class."

"Oh, so that's how you know each other?" he asked us, but then a yell distracted him, and he started dragging Scott with him around the tables. I followed curiously as it seemed Scott surely had met Matthew before. "Never mind, Marco is here. You can keep him company." We were led to a table in the corner close to the little desk from where drinks and snacks were being sold. Matthew let go of Scott a few metres from the chairs as someone yelled at him again. "I got to go," he said apologetic and just barely avoided knocking over a table as he backed away from us, "I am second on stage. I need to practice one last time. Have fun!" He looked up at Scott, and then he sent me a warm smile before forcing his way back in between the many tables. I hugged my jacket to my chest and raised a brow at Scott.

"You're friends with Matthew?"

"He comes here often," he explained.

"Then how can you not know Alfred?"

"What has Alfred got to do with anything?"

"They're brothers!"

"What?" He looked at me bewildered, and I grimaced and just shook my head at him. Apparently their situation was worse than I thought. I had supposed only Alfred didn't tell anyone about Matthew, but apparently it worked the other way around as well. They really were a bad case of brotherhood.

"Who's Marco, by the way?" Scott nodded towards the table. Only then did I realise that a person was sitting in the shadowed corner. As he noticed we were looking, he leaned a bit forward and blinked at us.

"Scott," he smirked kindly. Scott walked over and pulled out a chair.

"No surprise. Wherever Matthew is, you are as well." The lad laughed.

"We all have our hopes."

"Let it go." I stayed a bit in the background, not sure if I was supposed to interrupt them. They looked like old friends, and it annoyed me a bit, because I wasn't about to become the odd one out yet again, but then I was waved to them. As I stepped closer, I could make out Marco's face. He was a dark-skinned lad with brown dreadlocks tied up in the back. His thin lips were holding on to a cigarette, but as I approached them, he moved it away from his lips and offered me his hand.

"Hey there, one of Matthew's friends?" I nodded and shook his hand with a little smile.

"I'm Arthur."

"Marco, nice to meet you." I gazed into his brown eyes. There was something familiar to them that I couldn't quite make out. I tried to figure out if I had seen him before, but then he raised his brows at my staring, and I quickly looked away and sat down next to Scott. "From where do you know Matthew?"

"We ran into each other by coincidence," I answered truthfully and reached back to put my jacket on the backrest of the chair. Marco took a drag of his cigarette.

"Oh? Recently?"

"Yeah, about… two months ago?" I shrugged. Marco blew out the smoke.

"I've known him since he was this tall," he said and measured from the floor and up with his hand. I chuckled, because he sounded quite proud saying it.

"That seems like a long time ago."

"It is. Years!"

"They were in school together," Scott said, and Marco nodded. "Early childhood-friends." I shortly thought how my relationship to Alfred would've been had we known each other even earlier. Maybe then we wouldn't be making different friends as we were now. Maybe we wouldn't even have kept together. I could've been sad, lonely Arthur by now, the old friend he once cared for. Wasn't that what I was turning in to now? The thought saddened me, but then I remembered that I was angry at him, and I quickly tried to think of something else. I needed to be distracted. I pulled at my shirt and corrected my collar hastily.

"O-oh, that's nice," I said, just to say something. "So you've always known each other?"

"Nah, I lived in a village more up north for a few years before we met." I stared at him.

"A village? You went to school there?" I asked. From the corners of my eyes I could see Scott raising his brows at me for the odd question, but a little voice in the back of my mind was calling out for me. It was telling me to keep questioning him. It was the same voice that had given me the feeling of something strange when I first met Matthew.

"Yes, and day care," he chuckled, probably thinking I was joking with him. My fingers slipped alongside the tableside.

"Why did you move?"

"I was bullied in school," he answered. He didn't seem bothered by my questions at all, rather amused. He shortly waved the ash off of his cigarette down into the ashtray before he leaned the tabletop with his elbows. "That's what you get for being adopted, I guess."

"What did your parents do?"

"What is this?" Scott laughed restrained, "an interrogation?" I ignored him. Marco was looking straight into my eyes now.

"Did you dad run a movie theatre?" He slowly nodded. I couldn't believe my luck, and my heart skipped a beat as I dared to ask: "Cuba?" He pulled out his cigarette and blinked with his eyes wide open.

"Shut up - you're _that_ Arthur? Arthur… Kirkland?" He hesitated at the last name, hardly remembering it but still knowing it by heart. I grinned widely and slapped my hands down onto the table.

"So this is where you've been hiding!" I said.

"Hiding? I'd been sending you letters with my new address."

"You know my dad, they never reached me."

"The old man is still a racist?" he asked, but it was with a joking voice. I rolled my eyes.

"And a whole lot more." I turned to Scott who looked confused and had turned into somewhat of an outsider. "We're also childhood-friends." He held his arms up.

"Well damned be me, I am the only newbie in this group it seems!" We laughed, and Marco offered Scott him his cigarette as a consolation, but Scott turned down his offer as he was no smoker.

"What've you been up to for all these years?" I asked Marco, but as he was about to answer, a loud noise ran through the speakers and made us all cringe. I glared towards stage. One of the two girls jumped down while the other leaned in close to the microphone with an apologetic look on her face.

"Sorry we're running late, someone had messed up the cords. But now we're ready to start the first poetry slamming of the autumn. And remember; it's not a competition today, it's just for fun, so I don't want to see any crying bitches in the bathroom." Some guys loudly yelled for bitches. They were shushed down, and the light above the tables was turned off. I felt an excitement rise inside of me, something I hadn't expected as I really just came along to do something different and be with Scott.

But it _was_ all exciting, and sitting at the table with two people I knew and felt comfortable with, it was almost as if I had always been going to this place. As if this was our table, and as if we were a group who always came to hang out here, regulars, close friends.

As Matthew got on stage as the second performer and loudly roared about life and death and everything in between, Marco leaned in close to my ear and said something about being happy to see me again. I felt fantastic.

* * *

"That was surely different." It was almost midnight. Scott was pulling his bike along as we walked side by side through town. I hadn't expected for the evening to take this long, but as Matthew returned to the table after having been on stage, we'd all chatted away for hours. I hadn't felt any need to leave early, rather I would've wanted to stay for longer had the place not been closed. Matthew and Marco had walked in the opposite direction of us towards the busses, and so we had been strolling for the last few minutes in silence, just sharing looks and smiles. I had been the first to speak.

"Yeah," Scott nodded, and I could see the air escape from his lips as a white fog, "and quite lucky we all know each other."

"I surely hadn't expected to see Cuba, eh, Marco." I quickly corrected myself. Scott laughed at me.

"Why did you used to call him Cuba?"

"He was very shy in class, he never said his name. But we all knew he was from Cuba. So that became his name. Cuba." I shrugged.

"And he got bullied, I gather?"

"For his weight and skin."

"That's tough."

"I guess that's how it is in a village." Scott kicked a stone. I kicked it as well and expected for him to follow along with the game, but he just walked past it.

"It's not always better in the city."

"No?" I shortly looked over my shoulder back at the stone before I looked up at him. He tightened the knot of his scarf with one hand.

"At school, if you're just a bit different- …well, it's just as crucial." I laughed shortly and harshly, maybe because I felt damned. I knew very well what he meant. Was I the least affectionate with Alfred, I would be joked at as being gay, pushed around and laughed at. I couldn't imagine what coming out would make them do to me. I had never been regularly bullied, but it surely wasn't something I longed to experience.

"Better not stand out," I said and stuffed my hands down into the pocket of my jacket. Scott winked at me, but not joyfully.

We crossed a street and walked alongside a green area with a playground in it hidden between the bushes. I could hear a swing set creaking. It reminded me off how Alfred and I had played on the seesaw at the end of the summer, and I smiled a bit at the memory. It was as if Scott had read my thoughts, for he suddenly said: "So, about Alfred…" My heart skipped a beat in surprise, and I felt almost worried for what would follow.

"Yeah?"

"He's Matthew's brother?" I breathed out in relieve and nodded. I felt silly for worrying the slightest. What was to be worried about anyway? What kinds of questions could he ask that I did not want to hear?

"Yeah, half-brother. They have the same dad."

"Oh, that's how it is."

"Matthew really never told you?"

"It's not like we're _that_ close friends," Scott said, but he did sound a bit odd. As if he too was wondering why he hadn't been told before now. I tried to cheer him up:

"Well, Alfred didn't tell me until recently."

"But you've known each other for so long?"

"Well.. Maybe he didn't consider it that important." Scott shook his head in disbelief.

"As a best friend, that's something I would want to know," he said. It felt like a punch in the face, and I glared at him, but again he just shook his head at me. We were best friends, Alfred and I. I kept telling myself that. Surely we started to see each other less as I met Evan, and moving from the village didn't exactly do any good for our friendship, but I couldn't imagine Alfred getting a better mate than me. He had his girls. I wasn't sure I liked it, but he had them, and that was it. No other boyfriends in any sense of the word. Just me.

But Scott was right - if Alfred considered us to be this close, why hadn't he told me earlier? I had accepted it when he just shrugged it off as something he didn't want to discuss. It had been hard for him to move all this way just to be closer to someone he thought had ruined his family. But he could've shared his worries with me. Since we met, there had been plenty of times for him to sit down and talk with me. It was as if Scott's questioning upset me, but not because of his words, but because he was _right._ Best friends _were_ supposed to know this about each other!

I felt myself walking more slowly. Scott passed me with his bike as he didn't notice at first. Suddenly I started really thinking about this evening. I had had so much fun, and Alfred was having fun with someone else somewhere in the village probably, and we seemed to be pretty well off on our own. What did this mean to our friendship?

"Arthur?" I looked up at Scott. He'd dragged his bike back to me. I had stopped walking. "Are you alright?" I nodded, and then I forced myself to keep walking.

"I am fine, sorry, I just… spaced out a bit." He placed his hand on my shoulder.

"I live close by," he said, and his voice was gentle like an angel's, "do you want to spend the night?" I felt myself becoming flustered. What kind of offer was that? A nice one, but still I hesitated. I didn't want for the evening to end. But I didn't want for it to continue either. I felt I was cheating on Alfred and doing him a favour at the same time.

"I-I have nothing with me," I stuttered, and Scott laughed and let go of my shoulder.

"You can borrow one of my shirts to sleep in, if that's what you mean." He smiled at me casually. I smiled back at him shyly.

"What about brushing my teeth?"

"Will they fall out if you don't do it for once?"

"I suppose not.."

"There you go." I bit my lower lip. I wasn't sure why I was making this into such a big problem. Scott was just trying to be nice. He was no Evan, he was no Alfred, he was just kind-hearted Scott who constantly had something in his eye that made him wink. And he just wanted for me to spend the night. It wasn't like he was asking for permission to put his cock up somewhere. I shuddered and blushed a bit at my own thoughts.

"Okay. That sounds good." Scott grinned at me. I pushed his arm and told him to look decent. But he just smiled more.

* * *

Scott lived with his family in a proper house close to the main street of the town. It was a common brick house, but the small garden in front somehow made it look cosy and nice. Scott parked his bike up against the fence while I looked towards their car in the driveway. I couldn't make out what kind of car it was in the dark, but it was rather big, almost like a small truck. Scott straightened up from the lock and looked towards it as well.

"It's my mom's," he said, "before she got a steady job, she did catering from home. Now she only does it for family when they have a party."

"And your dad?"

"An accountant." We walked up to the front door. Scott tugged at the handle, but the door was locked. He pulled forward a key and unlocked it. "Seems like everyone's asleep. Try to keep it down." I nodded and watched him open the door and turn the light on in their hallway. He slipped inside, and I tried to tiptoe though it was impossible not to make any noises when wearing my boots.

Inside the heat was on, and I felt my fingers being warmed up as soon as I dragged them out of my pockets. On the walls copies of well-known paintings were hanging. I recognized Picasso and Vincent van Gogh. An old saxophone had also been put up as part of the decorations. As I took in a deep breath, I could smell lavender. The odour seemed a bit fake. I guessed it came from candles that had been lit.

Scott took off his shoes, and I pulled the boots off of my feet and followed him quietly as he walked down the hallway and did a turn to the right. We went through the dark living room where the smell of lavender got stronger, and I, as suspected, saw the put out candles still gloating a bit on the table. They had no television in the room, but a big music centre in blue and lots of bookcases filled to the brim. While Scott leaned down to look for something underneath the music centre, I went to check out the shelves. Though it was dark, I could make out the letters on some of the bigger books. They had all been placed according to subject. First there were rows with history, then psychology, then a few biology books followed by music and theatre and art. I saw very few actual novels, and the ones I noticed were all well-known ones. Robinson Crusoe and War and Peace, to mention a few.

It seemed I had entered the house of an academic family. When I thought of my own home, it was almost shameful to compare it to this place. Mom only read the short stories in her magazine, unless she could be bothered to go through one of those easily read novels which were all about a woman finding her true love and divorcing her mean husband. Dad didn't read at all. Though I sometimes saw him with a newspaper, it was mostly just so he could point out an article and complain about it, not be enlightened by it. I doubted he even knew of van Gogh.

"Got it," Scott whispered. I turned to look at him. He was holding a CD, and he waved at me with it as he went back to the hallway and opened the door opposite of the living room. We entered a smaller, colder room, and Scott closed the door behind us before turning on the light in there. A yellow light bulb lit up the room softly. "I'll turn on the heat," he said, and I rubbed my arms and nodded while looking around.

"Is this your room?" The place looked nothing like a guy's room, and I thought I had seen quite a lot of those by now. His walls had been painted light brown, and the only pictures he had up were posters from concerts and a single one from a movie - one about a concert. His bed in the corner was made, his desk clean, his two low bookcases newly dusted and the books in there put up alphabetically according to the writer's last name. The only thing that revealed his gender was a framed picture of him and some other lad dressed up for swimming. I walked over to take a closer look. They had their arms around each other as they were proudly showing off two medals.

Scott was messing around with his CD-player. Soon, though, he got it right, and the sound of someone playing the piano filled up the room. He turned the volume down a bit and then turned to smile at me. "It's from a concert we went to in Russia," he said.

"You've been to Russia?" He nodded. I pursed my lips impressed. "Wow."

"Let me find you a shirt." Scott kneeled at his bed and pulled out a box from underneath it. As he opened it, it revealed to have several shirts nicely folded and stacked. He picked out one and put on the bed. "You can use this tonight."

"You're quite a methodical person, hah?" I mumbled impressed. Scott seemed proud as I pointed it out to him.

"Yeah, I like to have everything in order." I smiled a bit.

"So do I."

"Must be hard. I know Alfred's quite messy." I shrugged. He really was. When I had him sleeping over, I normally had to clean my room up well afterwards. Not because he brought in dirt, but because he rummaged through everything I had and misplaced it. I found it endearing, though, but I felt I shouldn't tell Scott so. He didn't look like one who found anything wrinkled cute. Giving it a second thought, maybe it really wasn't all that cute.

"He normally leaves a mess," I finally said, and Scott snorted.

"That's not nice."

"That's how he is."

"It's really disrespectful, isn't it?" He raised his brows at me, and I could only nod.

"I… I suppose. I haven't really thought of it in that way.." Scott closed the box and shoved it back underneath the bed before getting up. "I'd though you were messier. Since you said your parents are creative and all."

"Oh, they are, but we all like a clean house," he said. I wasn't going to question him further about it. I sat down on the edge of his bed and stretched my legs. Somehow, my worries for sleeping over had been replaced with a worry for doing anything wrong at this pretty place. Scott sat down next to me. "Will you be going with me another evening?" he asked, and I nodded.

"Yeah, it was really nice. I wouldn't mind."

"I think the next one is in two weeks."

"Cool, I'll be there. It'll be nice to see Marco again as well." I leaned a bit back in bed and watched the ceiling. We were quiet for a moment, both of us just listening to the music. Then Scott cleared his throat.

"About Marco.." I looked at him, expecting for him to continue, but he took his time as he moved further up in bed and leaned against the wall behind us.

"What about him?"

"He's pretty nice to Matthew, did you notice?" I raised my brows. Scott scratched his cheek. "He likes him, you know."

"Well, that's nice. So do I." I shrugged. I really wasn't sure what Scott was trying to say, and he looked a tad annoyed that I didn't get it right away. "I mean, he buys him sodas and stuff. He's a good friend. That's nice."

"No, he _likes_ him," he repeated, and this time he gave me a long look afterwards. I was about to repeat my own answer as well, but then it hit me, and I slowly breathed:

"Oooh… _Likes_ him." I hadn't really noticed it though it had been right in my face, but thinking about it, Marco had been sending Matthew some long looks, he had kept asking him if he needed anything or if he was cold, and he - jokingly I had though - touched his hair constantly, pulling at the locks and grinning at him. Apparently there had been more to it. "Are you sure?"

"He's told me."

"…what does Matthew think?"

"He's straight." Scott scratched his chest. I blinked.

"He knows?"

"Yeah, and he turned him down. Marco asked him out one day, but Matthew's not interested. He's into girls. It was really awkward." I nodded lightly while looking down at my lap. I was resting my hands in it. Now my fingertips dug into my shirt and tugged a bit at it. I felt my throat go dry.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked him. Scott didn't answer immediately. I peeked at him nervously. "Why?"

"Just…" He shrugged. "Are you disgusted?" This time I didn't answer right away. I started to feel uneasy. Was this some kind of test? I couldn't help but to wonder if he had figured me out, or if he suspected me to be into men, and if this was his way of getting it out of me. If it was, I didn't like the way he went around it. My heart had started to beat faster. I felt a thin layer of sweat starting to form on my forehead, and I quickly rubbed it away.

"Well, I guess a lot of creative people are… well, into that," I finally said a bit shaken, trying to keep my opinion as neutral as possible. "Gay _and_ coloured. That can't be easy."

"He's not gay," Scott said, throwing me downright into confusion. I stared at him. Had I misunderstood it all? He was looking at me with his cheeks a tad red as he tried to sound casual saying: "He's bisexual." My fingers dug deeper into my shirt.

"What's that?" I asked baffled. Scott sighed annoyed.

"You know."

"No," I answered honestly and shook my head, "I don't." I could see he was trying to figure out if I was lying to him. I felt almost unhappy. This whole conversation seemed long and strange to me.

"It's when you're into both genders."

"Boys and girls?" I asked, and he nodded. I blinked. "…is that even possible?" Scott snickered a bit silly.

"Of course it is." I looked down again. This really was new to me. Maybe I had suspected that such could be possible, but I didn't know it had a name, and I hadn't really given it much of a thought. I thought it was an either-or thing. Either you're into girls or you're into guys. As easy as that. Being bisexual just seemed to complicate it all for me, but it also made a lot of sense at the same time. After all there was Alfred who went around with all his girls, but at the same time kissed and touched me. Could it be that he was bisexual?

Maybe it seems obvious, but at the time I hadn't thought this possible. I had thought of Alfred as a straight guy who just had me as an exception, other times as a gay guy who just wouldn't admit it. I had been waiting for him to let me know whom of us he really wanted. But if he wanted both of us, then was there any point in me waiting?

I felt an headache coming up. I rubbed my forehead with my fingertips and grimaced. "I feel like sleeping," I said. I could see a slight worry in Scott's eyes, but he slipped down from the bed and nodded.

"I'll bring in the mattress." He left the room, and I looked at the door as he closed it. I wasn't sure why he'd brought up this whole sexuality-talk now. We hadn't spoken of it before, and it made me feel a bit sick. I wasn't one bit happy about it.

* * *

I slept poorly that night. The mattress was thick and the duvet I got pretty nice, but still I had nightmares and kept waking up finding myself lost. In the middle of the night I couldn't remember where I was, and I sat up and just stared out into the air for some long seconds before I remembered being at Scott's. Still I must've managed to fall asleep, because when I finally woke up unable to go back to sleep, light was falling in through the window, and Scott had left his bed. I sat up slowly and ran my fingers through my messy hair. I couldn't see a clock anywhere. I wondered what the time was.

The door was opened, and Scott entered with a tray. He saw me awake and smiled at me. "Good morning," he said and kicked the door shut behind. I tried to smile nicely.

"Morning." He put the tray down next to my mattress and then sat down next to it. There were two glasses of juice, and two plates with bread and cheese on them. He scratched his neck shyly.

"Mom prepared it. Apparently she heard us coming home and knew I had brought someone with me." I huffed.

"I thought we were so quiet."

"So did I."

"Well, it's nice of her." I looked at the food again and then picked up the glass with juice. I took a sip. Scott was watching me.

"Did you sleep well?" I swallowed.

"Alright," I lied and put the glass back down. He cleared his throat.

"Listen, about yesterday…" I almost knocked the glass over. Scott grabbed it before I spilled too much.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," I said. He tried to wave the juice away from the plates with food.

"It's alright. Arthur, just.. I'm sorry if it was uncomfortable, alright?" I laughed shortly.

"In what way, uncomfortable?"

"It's just.. I must've been wrong." He scratched the back of his neck. I glared at him.

"Wrong about what?" His cheeks had darkened. He cleared his throat again.

"I'd heard rumours that you were… well…"

"Gay?" I asked. He nodded embarrassed. I pulled the duvet more closely around me and sighed. I knew how those rumours came to be. Though Evan was a whole other chapter, we hadn't exactly hidden ourselves away when at the parties. No doubt he had said something, or maybe someone had seen us being lovingly, and as people talk, rumours are created. Some of the people from the party was now going to my high school. I had noticed them, but I hadn't thought much about it. We weren't interested in each other. It didn't really matter. "Where did you hear that?""We were just talking in class one day. You know, stuff. Someone asked if we thought there was anyone gay at PE. And then we started to speak about gays in general. Names were mentioned, and well…" He shrugged.

"You could've asked me," I said.

"I know.."

"So you've just been hanging out with me to find out?" Scott shook his head hastily.

"Of course not!" he said, and he sounded so offended that I had to believe him. As he stuttered and tried to form a sentence, I calmly picked up a piece of cheese and put it on a bun. It wasn't that I was calm. Rather I felt angry inside.

"So the thing about Marco, was that a lie?" I asked and brought the bun to my lips.

"No, he really does fancy Matthew."

"Why the hell did you bring them into this instead of just asking me?" I sneered lightly. I didn't mean to, but I felt good when I saw how Scott blushed more deeply. He normally was this confident, know-it-all man. I'd thought him to always be so. Now he was weak.

"I just couldn't ask you right out!" he said.

"Why not?"

"I didn't think I had to know! I just… didn't think about it. But then you knew Marco, so I thought that maybe…" He shrugged.

"That maybe everyone playing for the other team share a bond?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Scott shook his head.

"Stop making me sound so bad." He looked around. I knew he was bewildered now, and I slowly took a bite of my bun and chewed on it. He got up and went to his bookcase, fetched the picture from it and showed it to me. "That's my ex and I," he said, and I gagged on the bread. His face was grave. I dropped the food back down onto the plate and sat up fully now.

"You're gay?"

"Bisexual," he corrected me. He sat back down again and looked at the picture. "Yeah I… like boys sometimes," he said and nodded. Then he looked at me. "It's hardly a secret."

"Others know?" I asked astonished. He nodded again.

"When people ask, I don't lie to them. Alfred knows as well." I felt my face whiten.

"W-what did he say?"

"Not much." He put the picture down next to him. I shortly looked at it, but mostly I was staring at Scott. "He told me not to make a move on him. There's not much to it."

"They just accepted?" I was in disbelief. Now Scott had to smile a bit, and his grave attitude loosened up.

"Remember what I said about being different? It's never that easy," he said and started to prepare himself a piece of bread, but he did it slowly. I think he just needed something to do with his hands. "But because I look like this, muscles and all, it's more alright. Had I been small, weak and nerdy, I am sure it would've been harder on me. Sometimes I think they don't believe me. They joke and yell at me sometimes. But that's all." I still couldn't really believe it. I hadn't experienced Scott being made fun of or yelled at. But he didn't seem to be lying. I scratched my neck.

"Wow…"

"Yeah," Scott smiled wryly, "welcome to the morning of confession." I snorted, and he laughed a bit. When he raised his bread to his lips, I reached out and grabbed him around the wrist.

"Scott," I said, and he looked over the bread at me, "were you afraid I hated gays?" His lips twisted.

"I don't know… I guess?" he said, and I let go of his wrist again. He dropped his hand down and sighed. "I mean, I am who I am. I never hide away. But you're a good friend. Of course I care for what you think." I felt a faint smile come to my lips. I hadn't been aware that he had been thinking like this. Yesterday had to have been quite a worry for him as well. I always went around pondering about what Alfred and Toris and Matthew and my classmate would think did they know I was gay. But I wasn't the only one with battling with such thoughts. Scott just had to do it even more, since he put himself out there for the jokes. At least I could always just 'not have an opinion' if someone spoke of being homosexual. Because I had never said anything openly. Rumours about being gay are made even about homophobes. They don't matter, the rumours. The truth does.

"I'm gay," I finally said. "Fully gay." Scott smiled a bit.

"You don't seem like it," he said.

"Oh? What does a gay seem like, then?"

"Don't."

"Come on now," I urged, and he mumbled:

"Well, more… feminine and childish."

"Like Matthew?" Scott grinned.

"Yeah, like good, straight Matthew." I pushed the duvet a bit off of me with a laugh.

"There you go, goodbye stereotype." He smiled at me. I smiled back at him. Then I scratched my arm. "Just… well, I don't go… telling people that I am gay," I said, and Scott nodded a bit. I looked into his eyes. "So don't spread the word, okay?" Scott picked up his glass of juice.

"Okay. A toast to that." I picked up mine.

"Cheers."

* * *

Strangely, it helped a lot being honest to Scott, and it felt good that he had some idea of how I felt and thought without having me explaining it to him. He told me about how he met his ex, and how they were only on a break right now while the guy was out travelling for a year. In return I shyly let him in on Alfred and how we had before kissed. I didn't tell him about us touching each other, I felt that kind of information was too private, especially as they had PE together. But I know he appreciated being told how we were close, though he didn't fully approve of it. He couldn't quite get how I accepted him going out with girls and abandoning me whenever he found someone to flirt with, and the less he understood it, the less I liked it as well.

"Don't you feel like he's taking advantage of you?" he asked me, but I couldn't really answer him. After all I had never told Alfred not to be with girls. I didn't have the right to say that he wasn't treating me nicely that way. But he really was turning into an asshole. Scott did well at pointing that out to me. "You should forget about him. Get a boyfriend."

"But I don't know anyone gay," I'd told him.

"How about anyone bisexual?"

"I don't like you in that way."

"And I don't fancy you either, but Arthur - you need to wake up!"

Scott and I grew closer over the next few weeks. Especially the time we spent in the basement when going to a poetry slam brought us together. I also spoke quite a lot with Marco, but I could feel we had grown to be quite different, though we could easily entertain one another an evening now and then. He was very much into the more quiet way of living, and I gathered that he could afford it. Apparently his parents had done well since they moved, which was why he'd met Matthew in the nice neighbourhood. It was almost like a movie; two lads meet, and one fall for the other. They come from different backgrounds. One will end up with a woman. Brideshead Revisited all over again.

Rather I came to talk a lot more with Matthew. He showed me a whole other side to himself as a more relaxed, daring lad who just had certain fears - one of them being blood. I loved sharing stories with him, but whenever the evening was over and we parted, I felt like I had once again cheated on Alfred. Matthew didn't know about his brother and I, not the gay-parts to our relationship that is, so I felt guilty about not telling him just as I felt guilty about talking to him at all when I knew Alfred wasn't fond of him.

Still it seemed all Alfred was fond of was girls. Surely he talked to me at breaks, and we sometimes met up after school to watch a movie or go for a walk, but we weren't at all as much together as I'd hoped for. It was partly my own fault. The more Scott pointed out to me how he mistreated me, the less I accepted his offers for going somewhere. Earlier he'd been the only one with the excuses; oh, he had to see a girl or oh, he had promised Jennifer… Now I was the one going; oh, but Scott and I…I think he really came to hate that start of a sentence. 'But Scott and I…" I used it a lot, just to see his lips twist downwards and his gaze flicker. I don't think he ever expected me to get attached to someone else than him. It was about time he got to feel how it was being second.

By the start of December, we could hardly be recognized as being friends. We had turned more into mates. Two guys who just knew each other. It would be a lie to say that I felt good about it. Rather I had come to worry that we would soon not even know each other, but just be a distant memory for each other.

It was a Wednesday, and school had been closed early due to a meeting among the teachers. I was walking down the stairs and crossing the road towards the bus stop as I noticed Alfred sitting alone on a bench a few metres away. His bike was leaning against the armrest next to him, and he was just looking at his feet all silently. I looked around to see if he was waiting for anyone, but no one seemed to be heading in his direction, so I pulled myself together and walked over to him.

"Hey," I said and stopped in front of him. He looked up at me and seemed surprised.

"Hey," he answered though, and then a little smile followed. I looked around again.

"Are you waiting for someone?" I asked, but he shook his head.

"Not really. I just didn't feel like going home."

"Is anything up?" He shook his head again and ran his fingers through his hair. The soft, golden locks bobbed lightly on top of his head. I looked at them as I tried to remember when I had last been running my fingers through them. I took in a deep breath. "Do you want to come to mine then?"

"Aren't you meeting up with Scott?" he asked. I could feel certain coldness to his voice. I shook my head.

"No, not today."

"Hmm.." Alfred seemed to hesitate, but then he stood up. "It's a long walk, isn't it?"

"Do you mind?"

"Not really.." He grabbed his bike and looked at me, and I nodded and then started to lead the way back to my place. It was quite a trip when not riding the bus, but we really had all day to get there. I walked next to him and shortly peeked at his face. His cheeks were red from the cold. He had been sitting outside for quite a while it seemed.

"We haven't talked for long," I said, and I could see him nodding. "How're you?"

"Alright, I guess. How about you?"

"Fine. Got any girlfriend?" He snorted and kicked a stone. It jumped off the pavement, so I couldn't get to it before we had passed it.

"I'm still with Jennifer," he said. "How about you?"

"No, not really." I took in a deep breath and looked at the sky. The cold made the blue in it seem sharp. As if we were walking underneath a piece of paper that you could just grab and bring down. "Is she nice?"

"Jennifer? She's okay," he said, but he didn't sound convincing.

"I've seen her at some of your games."

"Yeah, she comes by sometimes." He looked away as if he found the conversation incredible boring. I sighed and returned to being silent. Alfred and Scott both played football after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I'd sometimes stayed to watch them go at it, and I'd noticed Jennifer did as well. But still she didn't show up as often as I did, and when she did, it was often with a friend she chatted with to spend the time. I didn't quite get it. If she wasn't going to watch them anyway, then why did she even bother to come by? I suspected she just liked to kiss Alfred during breaks to show off and then listen up on the rumours. I hadn't been aware before, but now as I came to the games, I constantly heard jokes about Scott; how he was into men and how he probably watched the other guys in the shower. I never saw Alfred play along, but I didn't see him stop the jokes either. Scott just kept quiet or went to talk with me. I felt sorry for him. It couldn't be easy.

"Why don't you get a girlfriend?" Alfred suddenly asked, and I blinked.

"Uhh…" I wasn't sure what to answer him. He still wasn't looking at me, but I knew he was waiting quietly for my answer. He surely was listening. I cleared my throat. "I haven't… met anyone yet," I explained.

"I'm sure I can find you a nice girl."

"It's alright, I don't need one."

"Why not?"

"Because," I breathed helplessly, feeling almost overwhelmed, "I want for it to be the right one. Not just some nice girl." Now he looked at me. I gazed back into his blue eyes. They were extremely mature, I found, and it almost took my breath away. Alfred's face had gotten a lot of character to it recently, and his body had become more muscular due to all the training and working out. He had had PE today as well. I could smell his sweat. It was poorly covered by the fake scent of a cheap deodorant.

"You're a lot together with Scott," he said.

"You're a lot together with Jennifer," I said. My answer was quick and short as if I was defending myself. Maybe I was. Alfred huffed lightly.

"Did you know that he's into men?" he asked me, and I felt all senses in my rise to their fullest. My ears were pricked.

"He's into girls as well," I answered as casually as I could.

"He is?"

"It's called bisexual, Alfred. It's quite common." I said it as if I had known of it all my life. Alfred looked a bit puzzled, but then he just shook his head.

"Whatever, I know he's into men."

"Does it matter?"

"Well, you hang out a lot."

"I asked if it matters?" Alfred's fingers tightened a bit around his handlebar. I could see his knuckles go a bit white.

"I hear rumours about you. About you being… well…"

"Being what, Alfred?" I asked him sharply.

"About you being gay, man." I narrowed my eyes and looked closely at the road in front of me. Alfred was staring at me as we walked. "Did you know such rumours are being spread? Did you?"

"Yeah," I said quietly, "I know."

"Don't you care?"

"Why do you care?" I asked and glared at him. He clearly looked upset at my answer. "Hah? Why do you care? We hardly ever speak anymore."

"That's because you're always with Scott!"

"Well, you're always with Jennifer! Or Amanda or Rosa or whoever it is that week!"

"I care for girls!"

"Well, then stop caring for me!" I yelled it out loud. Alfred stopped up and stared at me.

"What did you say?" I felt it prick behind my eyes. They had started to go glossy. I turned my back to him and tried to discreetly rub them dry in my sleeve. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you care so much for girls," I said, "then why don't you just stick to them? Only them." Alfred sighed. I could hear him move a bit behind me.

"Arthur, we're good friends.."

"It doesn't seem like it anymore."

"That's because you're always-"

"-with Scott, I know. You so want to blame him for this." I interrupted him in a bitter voice. I didn't care that he was partly right. I only cared for the fact that he hadn't tried more eagerly to get to be with me and not just watch me walk off with Scott. Alfred kicked the ground.

"Are you doing anything with him?" he asked. I gasped in air surprised and turned to look at him.

" _Doing_?" I repeated, and he looked away flustered.

"You made me promise I wouldn't get a guy," he said. "But now you're with Scott all the time. What's up with that?"

"We're just friends," I said, but Alfred looked away. "Alfred, for fuck's sake!"

"Are you kissing him?" he asked me. I couldn't believe my own ears. I looked around to see if anyone was watching us, but we were alone. Alfred snorted. "Checking if anyone will hear the truth?"

"Do you want to know the truth?" I asked him in a sneer. "The truth is that we haven't kissed, haven't touched, and we haven't even hugged each other! That's the truth, Al." Alfred looked at me from just above his glasses. His eyebrows were a bit twisted together. He seemed a tad sad.

"Really?"

"Really," I sighed. He kicked the ground again as if he wasn't sure what to say now.

"Sorry.."

"You should be," I said and turned around as I continued to walk. Alfred hastily followed me with his bike. "While you go around kissing and… God knows what with all those girls, you go blaming me for something I haven't even done!"

"I only kiss them!" he said. "Really."

"Are you trying to make me believe you haven't grabbed their breasts even once?" I looked at him. He hesitated, and I snorted loudly. "See!"

"But we don't… we don't do like _we_ do, Arthur. It's different between us!"

"How is it different?" I wanted for him to say it. I wanted for him to tell me how important I was to him, how much our moments together meant to him and how he just wanted to be with me. I wanted to have him dump all his girls and just stay by my side. But he couldn't say it. Either that or he wouldn't.

"You're my best friend," he said instead, and it wasn't enough, but it still melted my heart. I knew what Scott would tell me had he been there; he would've demanded I ignored Alfred, walked away from him and told him never to talk to me again. But I wasn't Scott. I looked at Alfred. His blue eyes were shaking a bit as if he couldn't believe the conversation we'd just had, and I nodded.

"Yeah… we're best friends," I said. Alfred smiled deeply, and I shyly poked one of his dimples. "You silly idiot." He chuckled, and I had to smile as well. "I really do want to hang out more."

"So do I," he said. "How about Friday? Are you doing anything Friday?" he asked. I actually was. I was supposed to go with Scott to the poetry slam, but I supposed skipping it once wouldn't be too bad.

"Friday sounds good."

"We can watch movies. Do you want to sleep over?" I nodded. That sounded very good indeed. I started to walk again, and Alfred puffed my arm lightly. "We're good now, right?" he asked, and I grabbed at his hand and gave it a squeeze.

"We always were."

We both wanted for it to be true, but it wasn't completely. Though we went to my place, all we did was to talk about music and games. We didn't kiss, and as we sat in my bed, our shoulders touching, I wondered if he wanted it just as much as I did. But I wasn't even sure if he wanted it at all. So we just sat there, like two shy children, and whispered about how great Friday was going to be.

The next day during art-class I told Scott I wouldn't be going with him Friday. He raised his brows at me.

"What're you up to?" he asked, and I looked down at my sketch in front of me not to look him in the eyes as I answered:

"I'll be going to Alfred's." I knew he wasn't pleased.

"Why? For what?"

"Just to watch some movies.."

"Arthur, don't be dumb."

"I'm not, ok?" I shortly looked up at him. "I know what I am doing."

"What _are_ you doing?" I bit down at my lower lip and concentrated on my sketch. His fingers slipped across the table. "He's playing with you-"

"No he's not," I quickly said. "He's a good lad. He doesn't know better."

"Then you have to tell him he has to choose!"

"It's ok. I know it's me in the end," I said weakly.

"Do you really now?" As I didn't answer him, he said no more. But I knew he was upset. He just wanted the best for me. Still I wasn't sure what that was.

* * *

Friday I gathered some things at home before going to spend the night at Alfred's. I was folding together a shirt as Mom entered my room.

"Where are you off to?" she asked me. She was holding a cup of tea, and she took a sip of it while she looked at me.

"I'm spending the night at Alfred's," I said. She raised her brows.

"You're not seeing Scott?"

"Not tonight." I zipped the bag up and looked at her. She leaned against the doorframe.

"Oh, I thought you weren't friends anymore."

"We are. Best friends," I said and nodded just to confirm my own words. She took yet a sip of her tea.

"It's good. I like Alfred. It'll be nice having him over again," she said. I felt warmth spread inside of me and crossed my arms.

"Really now?" She nodded.

"He's such a mess," she said, and we both had to laugh, "but he's always so nice and helpful." I picked up my bag.

"Yeah, he is." She stepped aside as I walked out into the hallway and put it on the floor. I sat down to put my boots on. She kept watching me. I looked up at her and raised my brows questioning, and she cleared her throat.

"Alfred," she said hesitatingly, "is a good boy. You care a lot for him, don't you?"

"We're best friends," I said again, sticking to that explanation. I could see something worried in her eyes, and it made me worry as well. I tied the laces and stood up again.

"Yes but… Are you okay?" I blinked.

"Of course I am okay."

"There's nothing you want to tell me?" I looked into her eyes, and I parted my lips slightly.

"No," I whispered, and then I shook my head a bit. "Nothing at all." I could see the disappointment on her face, but it only lasted for a few seconds. Then she looked away.

"Have a fun evening," she said. I grabbed my bag and left the flat quickly. Still her voice kept echoing inside of me the whole time I was at Alfred's. We mostly sat in his bed watching movies, but I was distracted by the event earlier. What had she meant? What was I supposed to tell her? I shortly peeked towards Alfred and felt a lump form inside my throat. I wondered if she suspected anything, but it felt stupid, because Alfred and I were hardly doing anything anymore, and when we had earlier, we had been extremely discreet.

I was looking at Alfred as the thoughts went through my head, and he noticed me staring as he reached over for the crisps.

"What's up?" he asked me, and I shook my head.

"Nothing, Mom was just a bit odd today."

"Well, aren't moms always?" He smiled at me and stuffed his mouth with the crisps. He chewed on them happily though spreading salt everywhere. I grimaced and handed him a napkin.

"Please," I said, and he took it and wiped off his lips. I leaned back in bed and wrinkled my brows. "She sounded as if she suspected something…"

"Something?" Alfred asked.

"Something about us," I said. I looked back at him, my expression serious. He swallowed his mouthful at once. "Have your mom ever sounded like that?" His gaze flickered. I knew he was hiding something, because he couldn't keep looking at me but had to lean back at glance towards the screen again.

"Not what I know of," he said and then went quiet. I knew he was lying. I wasn't even suspecting it, I knew it right away. No matter for how long we had been apart, I knew every little expression of his, I understood his body language, and he was way easier to read than he knew.

"Cheeky bastard," I mumbled and took a handful of the crisps myself. We didn't go further into the matter, though. We didn't go into any matter. For some reason I had imagined that we would spend that night as we had spend many other nights; be in the arms of each other and kiss and touch like we used to. But we didn't. Neither of us made a move on the other. We lied closely in Alfred's small bed, back to back, and I just stared out into the air. I knew we had changed. Just over the past few months we had come to be different. It didn't mean that we would never again be able to kiss, rather it meant that we had to re-discover each other. We just weren't sure how.

* * *

"How did it go?" Scott asked me the following Monday as we met up in the tutor group. I just shook my head, and he rolled his eyes. "I knew it. Something drastic has to happen." With drastic he meant me forgetting about Alfred. But I couldn't.

I was a lost case, but somehow I felt Alfred had it even worse. From always having me living next door and keeping an eye on him, I had now gotten my own friends, my own interests and my own rumours surrounding me. They had gotten stronger, the rumours, mostly because I was hanging out with Scott a lot. Obviously, I had to be gay if I wanted to befriend someone who liked guys. It annoyed me that I couldn't even shoot down their prejudices. I was gay, and I was interested in keeping Scott as a friend not only because we shared interests, but because he understood what it meant to be different. I was all what the rumours claimed me to be, and though Alfred seemed to try to ignore them, he couldn't help but to sometimes ask me about them. I kept telling him that there was nothing to them, but I felt bad about doing it. I really was lying to him. I think he could feel something was off, because he seemed to distant himself a bit from me.

Just as I thought it was all getting better, it kept getting worse.

December passed by. One week before Christmas holidays, the guys were playing a last game of football outside. The wind was cold, but no snow had fallen, and it was possible for them to run across the grass and use their tricks as always. I was sitting on one of the benches watching them together with Jennifer. For once she had come alone. She was wearing a thick, red jacket while I was still in my thin leather one.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked me. I shrugged, but my fingers were blue in my pockets. I tried to rub them against each other to warm them up.

"No," I lied. She looked towards Alfred as he ran across the field with the ball by his feet. He truly was good at the game.

"Is it true?" she asked, and I hesitated. "The rumours." I licked my lips.

"Why do you care?"

"Because you're Alfred's friend." She looked at me. Her long, dark eyelashes partly covered her blue eyes. I wiped my nose off in my sleeve.

"I still don't think it's any of your matter."

"So it is true?" A whistle was blown. It was time for a break. I quickly got up from the bench as the guys walked towards us.

"It doesn't matter," I told her and walked to greet Scott. He was smiling at me with sweat dripping from his hair. "Tough game?" I asked him with a wry smile, and he nodded and grabbed a water bottle from the bunch. Most of the other guys did as well.

"But we're winning," he said and looked towards the other team who grimaced at him.

"Of course you're not," one of them said, and another added:

"We're not losing to someone gay." Some of them snickered. Scott looked indifferent as he opened his bottle and took a sip of the water. I tried to ignore them as well as I watched him drink.

"Never drop the soap," someone said. They laughed again. I glared towards Alfred who was sitting next to Jennifer on the bench. He looked away.

"Alright, enough," he mumbled, but it didn't seem to have any effect.

"How about you, Arthur?" one of them asked. I looked towards the tall bloke. He was grinning widely.

"What about me?" I asked.

"Are you that kind of guy?" I narrowed my eyes. Alfred got up.

"Of course he's not," he said. I looked from him to the guy.

"Shut up, Al, let him speak for himself," the guy said and then looked back at me. "Are you?" he asked. "A bum boy?"

"I told you to shut up!" Alfred said and took a warning step towards the guy. He backed away with a little laugh. I looked up at Scott. He was sending me a grave look. I felt my mouth go dry.

"Oh, all three of you?" someone added in and laughed. Jennifer huffed.

"Alfred's not gay," she said. Someone whistled.

"Yeah, sure, that's what his little lady says."

"I think they're all shagging."

"Are you, Scott? Shagging?" I almost waited for Scott to go mad, but as always he played it cool and just smiled at them.

"Of course I am. All the time." They laughed. Some of the guys sat down by the other bench to talk about the game, but three of them stayed. One of them was the questioning guy from before.

"Are you shagging Arthur?"

"He's not gay," Alfred said again. I felt my heart skip a beat. The more Alfred denied my sexuality, the angrier he seemed and the more sad I felt. Scott placed his hand on my shoulder. I knew what he wanted from me. I wriggled free of his grab, but still I heard myself say:

"What if I am, hah?" Everyone got quiet and looked at me. Alfred's eyes had widened clearly.

"Then… are you?" one of the lad's asked.

"Arthur?" Alfred said in disbelief. My heart was beating faster, and my gaze slipped from face to face. They were all waiting for me to answer. Scott was getting impatient by my side, but Alfred's devastated face made it worse for me. I looked him straight in the eyes.

"Yeah…" I whispered. "Yeah. I am gay."

"Fuck me, I was right!" one of the guys yelled. Two others cheered him on. Alfred took a step towards me.

"Have you gone insane?" he asked me in a whisper, and I shook my head a bit.

"I… I am gay, Alfred. I… I always was."

"Stop lying! Do you even know what you're saying?" I swallowed.

"You're friends with Scott. Scott's bisexual. Why does it matter what I-"

"Because we're friends, man!" he shouted. "We've been friends for so long!"

"Al, calm down," Jennifer begged, but he didn't listen to her. Scott placed his hand on my shoulder and pulled me in closer.

"Hey, don't do anything stupid," he said. The satisfaction in his voice was clear, though. Alfred sent him an angry glare.

"Is this because of you?" he asked. "I should've known!"

"It has nothing to do with Scott," I stuttered, his anger truly overwhelming me. Scott pulled me even closer. Alfred puffed up his chest.

"Don't touch him!"

"You don't decide that!" Scott said. As Alfred walked closer, Scott pushed me a bit aside, and it seemed to upset him even more.

"Don't push him!" he yelled. All the guys had stopped chatting by now and were just looking at us. "Have you talked him into this shit? You're really an idiot!" he yelled. Scott leaned in closer to Alfred while I stepped more aside, worried to get in between them.

"I'm the idiot? Hah! You've been the one acting like a bastard for the last months!"

"Because you're right there, putting ideas into his head!"

"I haven't put anything into his fucking head!"

"Then what do you call this 'coming out' thing, hah?" Alfred pushed Scott's chest. I silently begged for Scott to be clever and walk away, but he pushed Alfred back.

"I call it reality! Welcome back to it, Al!"

"I call it dumb as fuck!"

"Please, guys!" Jennifer cried. Her voice was shaken, and she looked at me all begging. I wanted for them to stop as well, and I realised I couldn't just be standing on the sideline. After all I was the cause of this. I stepped in and tried to push them apart.

"Stop it! You're not to argue over this, it's stupid!" I said, but Scott grabbed me by the arm and hauled me away.

"Don't mingle," he said. I caught a glimpse of Alfred's eyes, and I knew he had done his biggest mistake.

"I told you to fucking stop touching him!" Alfred screamed, and his fist flew to Scott's face. It hit him at the jaw and made his head turn to the right. I saw it as if it happened in slow-motion. In the hit I saw anger. But I also saw vulnerability. I hadn't realised it before, but even though Alfred was standing there, the blood in him boiling from anger, he also stood there as a little boy. A scared child. His best friend had been lying to him. His best friend had always been telling him how whatever they did was okay and normal and not gay. Now his best friend had broken away from him, telling him that he was just all that, and what they had done had indeed been very gay.

If Alfred had been letting me down for the last few weeks, I had been letting him down for the last year.

All that went through my mind at those seconds, and when Scott got his head turned back, he raised his fist and sent it right back at Alfred. It hit him at his chin and made him stumble a step away, and I am sure he would've attacked him for that had the other guys not stepped in between and separated them. They simply grabbed Scott and Alfred by the arms and pulled them apart.

"Calm down!" they said.

"It was just for fun!" one assured. But there was nothing fun about it anymore, and as I had to leave with one of them to go wash the face with cold water, I found myself naturally walking back to the toilets with Scott. Jennifer was by Alfred's arm, and I saw how she gently and worriedly tugged at his shirt. I also saw Alfred's eyes looking back at me. They were two sad bits of the sky.

That holiday we didn't meet up. We didn't even exchange gifts. On Christmas Eve I went to the toilet, sat down on the floor and broke into tears. I knew I had lost Alfred. And I could only blame myself.

* * *


	19. 19

"When the basement opens again, it'll be with a slam for rookies." Scott was flickering through the pages in one of my books. From where I was sitting I couldn't see which, and I didn't care. I leaned up against the wall and stretched my legs across the bed.

"Oh?"

"It's the perfect opportunity for you! Man, you have a lot of nonsense here…" He put the book back up swiftly, but I recognized Superman's face on front of it. Scott was checking out my old comics and new books in my bookcase. Apparently when my taste was rated according to the Scott-scale, it got 1 star and the review: nonsense. I grimaced.

"Grown-ups read comics as well."

"Have you written anything new?" I was being ignored and turned to my side to look into my yellow wall. The fact that I didn't answer his question didn't bother Scott one bit. He happily chatted away: "Afterwards there'll be a bit of a party, to celebrate the first slam this year. It's just two weeks after school has started. You'll already be craving to get out of the dusty classroom and let yourself a bit loose." The bed moved underneath me as Scott sat down at the bottom of it. He stopped talking for a few seconds. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know," I sighed and turned to lie on my back as I looked down at him. I shrugged and closed my eyes. "I feel a bit tired."

"Well I am not going to pressurize you into anything." His big hand stroked across my legs, and I shortly snorted. He then shoved them away and got back up standing. "Take a nap, I'll head back home before dinnertime. See you, right?" I opened one eye and nodded at him. Familiar with the flat, he easily found his way back to the hallway, and shortly afterwards I could hear the front door close. I immediately grabbed at my duvet, rolled myself up in it and laid flat on my stomach with my nose buried into my pillow. I had been constantly tired during holidays. I knew very well why that was.

I wasn't sure if Scott was in denial about my whole situation or just couldn't be bothered to give a damn, but a week of holidays and the beginning of a new year weren't enough of an excitement to make me forget about Alfred. I was still sad and confused, I'd just stopped crying about it, but Scott had taken my lack of tears as a hint to me having moved on in life. Though the basement where the poetry slamming was held had been closed during Christmas, he'd never stopped talking about how I should write a poem and get myself up on stage, how I would meet a lot of new friends that way, and how the boys would be swooning over me and queue outside my door. The truth was that I wasn't at all interested in having blokes collapsing at my feet. I couldn't even stand talking about being into guys. Since I realised I was gay, my whole life and person had been wrapped up in my sexuality as if that was all I was. I found myself being tired of it.

Because of the holidays I hadn't been in touch with anyone from school, and I had no idea what to expect when coming back. I was sure, though, that coming out at the football field and having two guys fighting because of me wasn't something anyone would keep quiet about. I just had no idea in what way the gossip would be made, or what it would focus on. Still I doubted the word about me being gay wouldn't be spread no matter how the story was retold. After all I had just let them know that the rumours about me had been true. If I confirmed one rumour, what then prevented them from believing all other rumours to be real as well?

I was scared. When I entered high school, it was with the hope of being Arthur Kirkland - no more, no less. Now I was risking becoming the Gay Boy. Just like all schools have a D-cup Girl, an Outsider, an Illustrator and a Sports Fanatic, they have a Gay Boy, either confirmed or unproven. I didn't like the thought of being nothing more than a sexuality, a person known by his lover and not his name. For the first time ever I actually found myself wishing that I was straight and just part of the crowd. I wish I was still friends with Alfred, and that we could again spend evenings reading comics and joke about his girlfriends.

But I also knew I could not live that way. I had to fight my way back from the Gay Boy to the Arthur Kirkland, and no matter how much it all made me feel sick, I could not turn back time and become the popular bloke's weak, little friend. I wasn't the sidekick anymore, and I couldn't hide. I could just do my best.

I fell asleep with all these thoughts kicking my brain around, and as I woke up two hours later, the sky had turned dark. My pants were sticking to my legs, and I groaned as I freed myself from the duvet and stumbled up standing. I leaned against my desk and turned on the lamp. Scott had left a leaflet on my table. It was an invitation for all new writers to try coming to the slam and show off their work.

' _We have no theme_ ,' it said on front, ' _but just the hope that you'll tell us something important about yourself._ ' I picked up the leaflet and put it on my wall above the desk, sat down and looked at it for a few minutes. I recognised some of the persons who had posed for the picture on front. In the corner Marco was sitting smoking a cigarette while looking towards the stage. It made me smile a bit. What was important about me?

I reached out and grabbed my sketchpad, found an empty page and started scribbling on it. I doodled a unicorn, drew an eye and then started on a poem about myself.

* * *

As school started again Scott showed me the kindness of picking me up at the bus stop and walking with me to class. He knew that I was nervous about facing everyone again, but he did a good job at distracting me from my surroundings. He kept talking and pushing for me to take part in the conversation, and though I didn't say much, it was enough to keep my mind off of my anxiety.

"Mom made pancakes this weekend," he said as we walked through the school's gate and crossed the little field to take the shortcut through the backdoor. "She made enough for both of us. Do you want some?" He pushed my shoulder with his own, and I nodded.

"Yeah.. Yeah, that sounds nice. Thanks." I had dressed down. Common jeans, my old sneakers and a thick, green sweater. I looked like any guy who had just rolled out of bed and not given much thought to his look though I had given mine a lot of thought. I tried to look normal, not _gay_. Still I kept feeling as if everyone was looking at me.

"After school we can go have some hot chocolate at the new cafeteria downtown."

"I am not sure I am up for that…"

"Why not? Everyone goes there?"

"But… two guys together drinking hot chocolate?" I looked up at him, and Scott raised his brows at me.

"That won't start a rumour," he said.

"Maybe not about you…" He sighed and shrugged. I knew I was being a bit harsh, but I was also being realistic. Scott was open about his sexuality, but he could be it for a reason; he was a tall, muscular, good-looking bloke who wasn't even gay, just bisexual. He could easily join in on any conversation about breasts and miniskirts. I, however, was fully gay, into literature and not at all muscular. I was damned.

As we passed by the bike shed, I pricked up my ears at the mentioning of my name. I peeked to the side and saw three guys leaning up against a blue bike. One of them was looking at me. As he saw me looking, he turned to the other guys and said something that made them laugh and turn to face me. One of them shoved his two forefingers together with a forced gasp. I quickened my pace.

"I shouldn't have come to school today," I whispered hurriedly. Scott looked over at the guys, but by the time he noticed them, they had already lost interest in me and were chatting about something else.

"You're being paranoid," he said. I glared at him angrily.

"Easy for you to say." I opened the door to the stairway and looked up. There was no one there. I started to walk up the steps with Scott right behind me.

"The more you focus on it, the more they'll focus on it too," he said. I held onto the banister and looked over my shoulder. He stopped two steps underneath me and sighed. "It's not like I haven't been through all this as well," he said. His eyes were gentle. "I know you think I have it easier, but I have been scared and talked about as well." The way he said it made my heart sink in my chest, and I looked down at my sneakers and nodded a bit.

"I know… It's just hard." He stepped up to stand next to me and placed his hand on my shoulder.

"You'll get through it." He smiled at me kindly, and I shortly grinned before quickly continuing up the stairs. I didn't at all feel sure I would get through it easily, but I was glad I had Scott to support me. With him by my side I was sure no one would really dare to be too harsh on me. After all most of the guys seemed to like Scott and somewhat respect him.

Still Scott couldn't be by my side constantly. We had art together in first block, and then I had English in second block. I felt nervous about going there alone, and Scott looked at me as if he pitied me as we split outside of class. Though I only had to walk down to the ground floor, it felt like the longest trip I had ever had, and my legs shook beneath me every time I caught the sight of a guy. But nothing happened. No one said anything, and I arrived at class unharmed. There were mostly girls in my class, and neither of them cared much for gossip which didn't involve them, so I found myself pretty calm on the back row as the teacher started the lesson. I even started to question my own fear; maybe Scott was right. If I focused less on my sexuality, then so would others.

After class we had a small break, and I grabbed my bag and hurried to the toilets to piss before sociology. The toilets on the 1st floor were mostly empty as everyone used those by the canteen, and today was no difference. As I entered, there was only a single guy standing by one of the urinals. He didn't spare me one look as I walked past him and went into one of the stalls. As I was in there, I could hear the door being opened and closed, and I supposed he'd left the room, so I took my time getting done, correcting my clothes and reading a poem or two engraved into the door before I walked out again. I was surprised to see that two other guys had joined the first by the urinals, but they weren't pissing. They were watching me. I swallowed harshly and tightened the grip around my bag. Neither of us moved. As I just kept standing there, one of them suddenly said:

"Aren't you going to wash your hands?" I felt my cheeks go red, and without answering them I quickly went over to the washbasins across of the urinals. I dropped my bag next to me as I turned on the water and held my fingers in under the hot stream. They still didn't move. I took in a deep breath and then reached for the soap, and as soon as I had greased my hands in it, one of them, a black-haired bloke, stepped forward and snatched my bag from the floor. I turned around with my fingers dripping soap and water.

"Give that back!" I said and reached out for it, but the tallest of them pushed me back up against the basin.

"And why should we?" he asked. His fingers were locked around my sweater, and I tried to push him off of me, but he was far stronger than me. Instead I leaned to the side to watch as my bag was zipped open and turned upside down so that everything spilled out all over the floor.

"Stop that!" I yelled angrily and struggled to get over there, but the guy just pushed me more harshly to the basin.

"Wow, look!" The black-haired guy grabbed my sketchpad off of the floor and flickered through the pages of it. "Unicorns!"

"What a faggot," the third smaller, chubby guy said. "Not that we didn't know that already!" I gritted my teeth together in a sneer:

"Jealous I won't fuck you, Fatty?" The tall guy laughed at my insult, and I used the small distraction to swing my foot forward and kick his knee. He yelled out in pain and let go of me, and I took the chance to slip away from him as I ran out of the toilet. I could hear them yell 'coward' and 'faggot' at me, but I didn't look back. As soon as I was in the hallway, I turned around the corner and fled to the school's library on the same floor. I sat down on one of the sofas, grabbed a newspaper from the table and held it up in front of me as I tried to look like a busy student. My heart was skipping beats and jumping around in my chest, and the palms of my hands were still dripping water. A girl who was also reading the paper looked over at me with her brows raised, but as I ignored her, she ignored me as well. My eyes were opened wide, and as I half a minute later peeked over the top of my newspaper, I saw the three guys walking through the library towards the stairs. One of them had my sketchpad in his hands, and he was looking through it with much joy. I couldn't see my bag, though.

When I felt sure they had left the floor, I got up again and slowly started walking back to the toilet. I could feel the blood rushing around inside of me, and I felt almost dizzy as I opened the door and looked in at my things still spread all over the floor. They had opened my pencil case so that every little pencil had fallen out, my lunch had been stomped on and thrown into the bin, and on the front of my book on English poetry they had painted a big, black cock. I leaned against the wall as I looked at all my things, and I felt my throat go dry and my eyes starting to water. I had expected people to react on my confession, but not this harshly.

They hadn't turned the water off. I reached out and turned the tap off, then dried off my hands in a paper towel before falling to my knees. I picked up my pencils and put them back into the case, made sure that all my books were still there before stuffing them into my bag, and then I took one good, long look at the picture of the cock. I would have to either get a new book or cover it up somehow, but considering how little money we had at home, getting some sort of cover for the book was probably my only choice.

I knew they were challenging me. I had no doubt that they had waited for me to be on my own before confronting me. Now I could either be a coward and go tell Scott or the headmaster about what they did, or I could be a man and keep quiet and fight my own battle. It wasn't really a choice. If I talked to Scott, I would in the end get in more troubles because I would appear weak, and if I talked to the headmaster, my parents would be informed of just what I was being bullied with, and I would have to come out to them as well - something that was way worse than having to look at a drawing of a cock for the rest of the year. No, I had to be strong and keep quiet about it all.

I skipped sociology. I would've been half an hour late anyway. Instead I sat down in the library and tried to do some new drawings now my sketchpad had been stolen. Needless to say I wasn't in the mood for anything, though. I drew a fat unicorn and named it Mr Fag. Somehow it seemed appropriate.

As lunch break started, I headed to the canteen and the table by the window. I always sat there with Scott, and he was already waiting for me, his box with pancakes put right in the middle of the table. He smiled at me as he saw me.

"How has it been today?" he asked, and I put my bag down on the floor and sat down across of him.

"Alright," I lied and shrugged. He nodded and started to open the box.

"That's what I said. It's not all that bad." I smiled weakly at him, and I felt my chest hurt. I really wished I could have told him how the day had actually been, but as I looked into his joyful eyes, I knew it wouldn't only hurt my own reputation if I did, but also his. Scott would start protecting me, following me around, and he would feel angry at himself for having stupidly believed guys to be better than they are. So as he handed me a pancake rolled up with jam and asked: "Is everything alright?", I took it and nodded:

"Yes, it's all fine."

* * *

It wasn't fine at all. Over the next few days it became obvious to me that the word had indeed been spread, and a lot of guys were about to join in on the new, fun event; bully the Gay Boy. They never became violent or hit me, but they held me back as they emptied my bag over and over again, told me just how gross it was that I was gay, and threatened me. By the end of the first week I knew for sure not to look for too long at anyone, because they would take it as me checking them out. Had I been scared when I returned to school after Christmas, I was now anxious every second I spent in the building.

I felt as if the whole school had turned on me, though in reality there were only about fifteen guys poking fun at me whenever they had the chance. The second time I returned to the stall I had first used when the three guys ganged up on me, I noticed a new poem that had been added to the inside of the door:

Fags should be beaten black and blue.

Do you know Arthur? He's one too.

It was Friday during lunch break, and I stayed inside the stall the whole hour bawling like a girl before grabbing a black felt-tip pen to paint it over with. Then I left school early. I simply couldn't face Scott again after such a harsh week.

I went to the local park and sat down on one of the benches. I couldn't really take the bus home, because I could risk Dad being in the flat. He would question me if I got back this early. Instead I sat and pondered when my life would return to normal. If Alfred would ever forgive me for coming out. And if we could ever hold hands again.

Thinking about Alfred made me feel down, and I hugged my bag close as I felt the tears prick at my eyelids. I tried to keep them inside, but it was hard. I missed him so much. One thing had been falling apart because we didn't talk much, but losing him because I was gay was just so much worse. When we were still together, he'd been my best mate and someone I could do things with I never dreamt of doing with anyone else. But now that we weren't close I could actually give a good thought to what he had been to me. It may seem odd, but up until that day in the park, I hadn't really thought much about Alfred, more about myself, my own feelings and who I was. But sitting there I realised that Alfred was a huge part of all my feelings, of why I had come to realise I was gay, and that he hadn't just been my best mate, but a love interest. I had been _in love_ with him, and like the silly teenager I was, I realised that I was still in love. Despite falling apart and arguing and fighting, I had still fallen for him hard.

I realised that I could never go back to being friends with Alfred again. If I were to approach him now, it was as someone who liked him just like all his girlfriends did. But what was the chance of him liking me back?

It was as if faith hated me and liked to rub its hatred in my face, for just as I thought that, Jennifer came walking towards me. On Fridays she had the last block off, so she wasn't skipping. Had I known she went to the park when school was over, though, I wouldn't have sat down there. But it was too late for me to walk away. She was heading straight for me, and it was obvious that I had noticed her. Her and her thick, but elegant, white winter-jacket and cute, pink shoes. Such a girl. I shivered.

"Hey," she said and stopped in front of me. I shortly looked up at her.

"Hey." She kicked a stone and looked up at the sky. I took in a deep breath through my nose and dropped my bag to the ground not to look like a girly man holding onto it. Though I felt like one.

"I've heard you have it rough these days," she said, and I glared up at her.

"If that's what you're going to talk about, then fuck off," I mumbled tough. But instead of walking away, she rolled her eyes.

"Shut up." She sat down next to me. I stiffened. I had no idea what she could possibly want from me, but before I got to ask, she looked at me with sad eyes. "I know it must be hard. I'm sorry it's like this…"

"Why are you sorry?" I asked her and looked down at my shoes. "We don't know each other."

"And therefore I can't be sorry?" I shrugged. "You and Alfred were good friends. I know that for sure. He talked a lot about you." I pricked up my ears, but still I tried not to look interested at all.

"Is that so?"

"Mhmm.." I dug a bit in the ground with the tips of my shoes, because I didn't know what to say. This was the conversation with Rachel all over again, the only difference was that this time I was the one Alfred had dumped.

"And now?"

"He's very angry," she said, and as I peeked to the side, I could see that she was still looking at me. "I think he doesn't really understand it all…"

"Do you understand anything?" I asked her, and now even she had to smile.

"I once had a lesbian friend. I understand very well." I snorted.

"Being lesbian and being gay isn't the same."

"It can be just as hard!"

"Hah!" I shook my head and leaned back on the bench as if I was to tell a story. "Now, listen, guys are much more physical when it comes to these things."

"But girls gossip," she said, and I glared at her.

"Guys gladly spread rumours."

"But girls," she continued as if she didn't hear me, "are very emotional. Most of us depend on each other. If one gets unpopular, there is no way back into the gang." I scratched my cheek and narrowed one of my eyes.

"What are you getting at?" I asked confused.

"What I am trying to say," she said and leaned in closer to me, "is that I think Alfred still cares for you, and I think you still care for Alfred. You should work it out. Physically if necessary." I smiled wryly.

"You want for us to fight?" She shook her head.

"I want for you to figure out how to still be friends. Since there's less emotions involved, you should be able to talk logically with one another." I felt like laughing. Fewer emotions? She clearly had no idea! But maybe that was good.

She left me shortly after she'd said that, and I stretched my legs and sighed towards the sky. I actually felt it was Alfred's turn to go and speak with me, and not always me who had to go work things out with him, but on the other hand I had my doubts that he would actually try to find me. He surely felt left behind, cheated and lied to. I couldn't blame him.

Alfred and I had managed to avoid each other the first week. I had seen him in the canteen, but he hadn't spared me one look. I know he had noticed me, but he acted indifferent. It made me sad, but I tried to fight off the feeling. I had told myself that it was too late to try to reason with him. This talk with Jennifer had however made me ponder. He had to have told her _something_ to inspire her to come talk with me, and that gave me a bit of hope. I didn't tell Scott about it, but all through the weekend I fantasised about how maybe we would get closer over time as we always did, and in the end start speaking again.

* * *

As Monday came along, however, I forgot all about Alfred again. I had to concentrate on not falling into the hands of the bullies and at the same time not show Scott that I was in fact being pushed around. I simply didn't have the time to pity myself for not having Alfred by my side, or cry because of my lost love. I know Jennifer had wanted for me to go straight to Alfred to get it over with, but though I saw her face in the canteen, and noticed how she was staring at me wishfully, I couldn't act upon her words. After all there was a dimension to the whole situation that she didn't know about; the emotional dimension. There was no way Alfred would be happy about spending time with me again anywhere but in my fantasies at night.

Monday I was pushed around. Tuesday I was sang a song about gays having aids. Wednesday I was chased down the empty hallways of the old part of school. Thursday I felt tired and old. I suppose even someone being bullied has a limit as to how much they can cry. I surely didn't feel comfortable with the situation, but I had already learnt to deal with it my own way. I sat and thought about that as I re-read the poem on the toilet's door Thursday during lunch break. Some guys were kicking the door, trying to break it down, while I sat on the toilet-seat with my bag next to me, just waiting for them to go away.

"Faggot!" one of them spat. I peeled a thread out of my sweater.

"Is he crying yet?" someone asked.

"I am not!" I yelled back at them, and the door was kicked again.

"You should be! Considering what we'll do to you!"

"Do you like being fucked, Arthur? Do you?"

"Do you like your ass filled with cock?"

"He likes to suck it!"

"He would love to suck my cock!"

"If it would shut you up," I yelled, "then I would gladly suck it!" I could hear how the guys grunted and became angrier at the comment, and it made me smile. I pulled my feet up to rest them at the toilet-seat so that I could rest my chin on my knees.

"No, I know who he would like to suck," someone suddenly said, and I heard them snicker. They became oddly silent, but I didn't hear any of them leave the room. It made me a bit worried. I held my breath as I tried to hear if they were whispering with each other, but there were no sounds. Then suddenly:

"Are you sad Alfred isn't here to protect you?" My gaze flickered. I didn't answer them. They snickered again. "He is. He's sad his great love can't be here."

"No, that's not what it says." Someone was messing with paper. I wrinkled my brows. A guy took in a deep breath and read out aloud:

"Crucial, I tell you! Looking into his blue eyes as I wish to drink dreams from his lips. Him! You ask. This should be about you, what is important about you. I tell you; he is!" A shudder ran down my spine as I started to recognize the words. My eyes slowly widened. This couldn't be- "A lovesick puppy I am not, neither puppy nor lovesick strike me as quite fitting words for me. No, I am neither. What I am is Arthur, not a simple gender or sexuality stuck on a body, but eyes, a nose and lips as well. And a heart! I bear it in my chest, though you can't see it, and it's beating, harshly, making me strive to hunt him down. He! He is American dreams. I! I am an English village- really, Arthur? American dreams?" I took in a shaken breath.

"Where do you have that from?" I asked.

"This has to be about Alfred. Isn't it, Arthur?" My head was spinning around. This was a part of the poem I had written down, but how could they had gotten their hands on it?

Then I remembered; the guys stole my sketchbook the first day of school. They stole my poem. All the other days of bullying seemed like nonsense compared to this fearful realisation.

"You have a choice," a guy said, and I looked at the still closed door. They had stopped kicking it. "You can come out and get a punishment, and we give you back the poem. Or you can stay safely in there, and we'll show it to Alfred. What do you want to do, faggot?" I couldn't speak. I had no idea what kind of punishment would await me if I opened the door, and I couldn't be sure they would keep their promise and hand me the poem afterwards. But at the same time it was risky letting Alfred see it. He knew me well. He would have no doubt that it was about him. I hid my face behind my hands.

"What do you choose?" someone else asked.

"Seems like he has already made up his mind," the guy who had read the poem said. "This will go straight to Al. Come on." I heard as they left the toilet one by one, but still I couldn't speak. My eyes were watering, my lips were shaking and I felt like puking. I hated my life. At that point in time, I really, really hated my life.

I didn't care to get out of the stall, not even as lunch break had ended and last block started. I just sat there, crying silently and staring into the door as I thought about what to do. I had come up with three ways to kill myself, but I was too much of a coward to ever go through with it, and in the end, suicide wasn't really a solution. I'd also tried to fool myself to believe that maybe Alfred wouldn't be able to tell that the poem was about him. After all he had never been much for poetry in any way. But hell - I'd even used a sentence he'd told me when we were children! If he didn't even recognise what he'd said himself, he had to be really dumb.

After more than an hour of hiding, I had to get going. I slowly slid down from the toilet and stretched my pained legs, zipped up my jacket and picked up my bag. It was with a fearful look to my eyes that I unlocked the door and looked outside. There was no one but me in the room. I hurried over to one of the mirrors to check my face, only to realise that it was obvious that I had been crying. My eyes were red and my cheeks pink. I couldn't even go to the park looking like this. My only option was to go straight home. If Dad happened to be there, I would just have to lie to him about having gotten last block off. Anything but to stay!

I left to room, but I only got to step out into the hallways before my emotions were thrown all over again. Waiting for me out there was Alfred, and he was holding onto the piece of paper on which I had written my poem. As he saw me, he waved with it.

"We've got to talk," he said in a serious voice, and there was no joy to his eyes either. I swallowed harshly.

"I… I don't feel like it," I said, but he pointed to an open door a bit down the hallway.

"There's an empty classroom. We've got to talk," he said again, and as if I had no choice, I found myself following him into the class and watch as he closed the door behind. I leaned up against one of the desks nervously and looked at anything but Alfred. I didn't speak a word. Neither did he at first. He walked to the windows and looked outside as if to check if anyone could be hearing what we were saying. "Did you write this?" he then asked and swiftly turned to face me. He handed me the paper, and I took it from his hand and looked at it though I didn't have to in order to tell that yes, it was me who had written the said poem.

"Yes," I whispered, "I wrote it."

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He ripped it out of my hand again and crumbled it between his fingers before throwing it to the floor. I stumbled a bit away from him at his sudden anger.

"What I am doing?" I repeated and took in a deep breath. "I am writing poetry."

"You're spilling shit about us!" Alfred shouted, but then he remembered he was supposed to keep it down not for anyone to come running to listen to our argument, and he walked up all close to me. I backed away from him until my back hit the wall and my bag-pack slipped from my shoulders to the floor. Alfred was standing right in front of me. His warm breath slipped across my face. I looked into his eyes. To my own surprise I found that he wasn't much taller than me. Somehow it seemed important to me at the time.

"I didn't hand it out to anyone," I whispered, "they stole it from me."

"Why do you bring such to school?"

"Why do you care?" He blinked. I bit my lower lip and straightened up a bit. "Yeah, Alfred, why do you care?" I emphasised, "it's not like they think you're gay for me."

"But you're gay for me?" he sneered.

"Did you _really_ ever think that we were completely straight with one another?" I asked him, and I could see his cheeks starting to turn red in anger. I was angry too. Angry, sad and feeling sick. "Did you, Alfred?" I pushed his chest, and he pushed me back up against the wall in a harsh shove.

"Fuck you!" he spat.

"You can just try!" I yelled, and he seemed surprised at how I talked back to him. I was shaking.

"What did you say?"

"You kissed me as well!" I shouted, and his gaze flickered. "You did and you liked it!"

"You fooled me! You said it was okay!"

"Don't be dumb - I couldn't fool you!" I poked at his chest. "And you were all fine with us fooling around until others heard about me being gay!"

"You should have told me you're gay!" He slapped my finger away and stepped away from me, but this time I stepped forward and followed him every time he backed away.

"I think it was pretty obvious!"

"Why couldn't you just have gotten a girlfriend?" I grimaced.

"What?" Alfred was looking all over the place, but now he looked back at me. He seemed out of breath.

"If you'd just gotten a girlfriend, everything would've been fine! We could've continued as before and all."

"We can continue now-"

"No!" he yelled, and I stopped up. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "No… No we can't." We turned quiet. He was looking at the floor. I was looking at him. He took in a deep breath. "Of course I knew what we did wasn't… _straight_. But you didn't have to go telling others about it!" I took in a deep breath as well, but not in order to be able to shout. I was trying to calm myself down. My hands were by my side, knotted into tight fists.

"Do you like me?" I asked. He shook his head.

"I have a girlfriend."

"That's not a valid answer!"

"And you have Scott."

"I am not together with Scott. I already told you!"

"'You're being bullied, aren't you?" I blinked, and he looked at me. "I've heard about it."

"They don't appreciate I am gay," I said. "Just like you."

"It's your own fault," he mumbled, and I narrowed my eyes.

"How's that?"

"Of course they don't like a gay guy at the school. It's… gross." I forced a laugh.

"Gross! So now I am gross!"

"It's different!"

"So what?" I pushed Alfred, and this time he didn't push me back. So I pushed him again. "So what if I am different? I thought you would be here for me!"

"I have always!"

"You're not now!" I pushed him again, and he grabbed me by the wrists really hard.

"Fucking hell, Arthur!"

"It hurts!" He let go of me, and I hugged my hands to my chest as I grimaced. He'd squeezed the life out of them. Alfred was looking at me with wet eyes. I hadn't notice before now that he was about to cry. He wiped the tears off in his sleeve.

"I am popular for once! Don't you see? I am not bullied, I have a lot of mates, I have a girlfriend-"

"For once?" I interrupted him sarcastically. "You've always been popular!"

"I have not," he said. He looked away and sighed, then he leaned against the closest desk. "I was always bullied back in America." I stared at him in disbelief, and he only shortly looked at me before shaking his head. "Never mind."

"Why are you telling me this now?" I asked. He straightened up and swung around with his arms.

"I don't know!" he said loudly, and then more quietly he continued: "I just… I hated it. I hated being pushed around because I was different. I loved school and I loved everyone and… they didn't love me, quite frankly. They hated me. I was an easy victim." He shook his head again.

"You didn't seem like it when you moved in next door," I mumbled.

"I didn't want to be bullied again. I wanted a fresh start to it all. So when you didn't like me, believe me, I put all in on making you like me!" Despite the situation, I couldn't help but to smile a bit. It was almost absurd.

"Are you just afraid?" I asked. Alfred woke up from his little tale and pushed me aside as he walked towards the door.

"I am not gay," he said and grabbed at the handle. He looked back at me. I could see the how he was shivering. "I like being loved," he said gently, "being popular is nice."

"I'll never get popular," I said, and we stared at each other. I shook my head a bit. "I'm gay."

"I know," he said and turned the handle. He opened the door.

"No, Alfred, if you _really_ knew, if you really knew how it is not to be liked… then you wouldn't be walking out that door now." He didn't answer. He left the room and closed the door behind. I bit my lower lip. If our meeting at the football field hadn't been a goodbye, then this was for sure. He had just closed the door in my face, even after practically letting me know that he liked me, but just couldn't live with the consequences of admitting it.

I was heartbroken. I couldn't make myself go to school Friday, not after the conversation with Alfred, but apparently he hadn't been feeling all to well himself, because as Scott came to pick me up for the poetry slam that evening, he let me know that Alfred hadn't been to PE. "He's probably busy with Jennifer, she wasn't at school either," he said and grimaced. I know I should probably had told him the truth by that point, let him in on what was probably the reason why Alfred hadn't showed up, but I couldn't make myself say it. It was all already way too real.

Scott rode us to the slam, and I even got on stage. Not with the poem I had originally written, though, because besides spending Friday bawling my eyes out, I had also been working my pen.

"I!" I said into the microphone as I got on stage, "what is most important about me?" I made a short pause. I could feel everyone looking at me, and I caught the sight of two grey, shining eyes in the crowd staring at me fascinated. A guy I had never seen before, but who still managed to make my heart skip a beat as he smiled at me. "What's most important, I ask," I said, and then I smiled back at him: "Well, I am. Me in every shape, bended over backward and rolled up in bed, in the colour red when angry or blue when sad. I am most important. Add neither she nor he to it. There's only one letter in I, and from now on I plan on enjoying that fact fully."


	20. 20

"That was your first time on stage, right?" I turned around and blinked at the muscular guy standing right next to me. He had curly, brown hair, light freckles and some shiny, grey eyes. I recognised them immediately. As he raised his hand to his lips, I noticed the bottle of beer he was holding. I eyed it as he was about to take a sip. "I think you did splendid."

"Thanks…" Automatically I hid my soda behind my back as I turned to face him fully. I didn't want to look like a pathetic child.

"About time you got on stage," he said and leaned against the cold wall. "Scott has been dragging you along for ages now. Where is he, anyway?"

We were standing outside. After having been on stage I had returned to Scott at the table to calm down again. My heart had been racing and my cheeks had turned bright red, and though Scott had kept praising me and telling me that I did fine, I couldn't believe it until others started telling me so as well. I knew that most of them did it to be kind to me; even if I didn't talk to many, I'd become a regular at the place, and seeing me in action for the first time had given people an excuse for approaching me. I wasn't used to the praise though, and before all the attention went to my head, I excused myself and went outside for a breath of fresh air. I wasn't sure for how long I had been standing out here, but I had almost emptied my bottle, and my fingers had gotten somewhat stiff and blue.

"I think he's still inside," I answered and shrugged. The guy nodded thoughtfully and sipped his beer again while he looked towards the bikes lying in a bunch on the other side of the yard. Scott's bike was among them. He'd put a big bell on handlebar to make it easier to recognise. Its metal surface was shining a bit, and I looked towards it as well while I slowly sat down on the lopsided bench next to me. My gaze flickered back to the guy, and while he was still busy inspecting the bikes, I quickly hid my bottle of soda away underneath the bench. "Are you his friend?" I asked and rested my empty hands in my lap. The guy kicked a stone and shook his head.

"Well, aren't we all?" he asked and raised his brows at me. They were quite bushy, though not as bushy as mine.

"What's your name?"

"Daniel. You're not Oscar, are you?"

"No," I laughed amused. "Who is that?"

"Scott's travelling boyfriend, you know." I knew of his ex travelling for a year, and I knew that it had been rumoured that he would be back home soon, but Scott had never told me his name, and he'd just shrugged at the rumours. 'It won't be for another month,' he said as if he didn't care, but I could see in his eyes that he was excited about having him back. Honestly, I'd just been way too busy with keeping up my own mood to go around talking about happy love with Scott. It probably made me a bit of a poor friend, but I'd told myself that by the time his guy came home, I would be nice and support them in any way I could. That was the best I could do for now.

"Yeah, but no. We just have classes together." Daniel sat down next to me and handed me the beer without a word. I shushed at his silence with a grin. "If Scott sees me drinking, he'll cut off my balls," I chuckled. Daniel smiled and shook his head.

"Come on, you don't look like someone who turns down beer."

"I don't, but Scott-"

"-plays by the rules, I know." Daniel bumped the bottle against his knees. He was wearing jeans and sneakers. He had no jacket on, just a thick sweater and a scarf. He looked a bit like a geek and a bit like a jock, and it was a bit charming. I hadn't really noticed him before though.

"Don't you perform yourself?" I asked, and he smiled deeply.

"Not on stage," he said, and I felt my cheeks heat up as I got what he meant. I coughed out a fake laugh and looked down at my shoes. "I just have friends here," he explained to lighten up the mood again.

"So you don't write yourself?"

"Only papers for school," he said. "I study biology at the university." I should've guessed he was older than me considering he'd been able to buy beer, but still I hadn't expected him to be at the university already. Giving him a second look, though, his face was somewhat mature compared to Scott's softer features.

"That sounds tough," I smiled, and he shrugged.

"It's okay." I nodded and wasn't sure what to add to that, so we just sat for a bit and enjoyed the silence. From the basement the sound of chatting and laughter worked as a light background noise. I recognised Marco's deep laughter in between the other voices, and it made me smile. Daniel emptied his bottle and held it upside down to check if it really was empty. I watched him do so wondering what gain he got from turning it around. Had there been anything left, it would've fallen to the ground, but I said nothing. "It was quite a strong poem you performed for a first-timer. What inspired you?" I grimaced, not because of the question, but because of the reason behind my poem, but naturally Daniel misunderstood my expression: "Sorry, what a stupid question."

"No, it's fine," I said honest though a bit tired, "I've just been screwed over by an old friend."

"Boyfriend?" I didn't answer. Daniel put the empty bottle down on the ground. From the corners of my eyes I saw how his fingertips hit my bottle with soda and shortly lingered at it before he straightened up. He decided not to comment on it, it seemed. "It's fine. We're all very open here. We all experiment."

"It wasn't an experiment. I am gay," I explained in a tired voice. Despite the bullying going on at school, I had come to find that at the poetry slam, I could be as little or as much gay as it pleased me. If anything, the others just thought of it as a natural thing that followed along with being creative. The few straight poets we had were poked fun at for being in the closet. I probably shouldn't find it as funny as I did, seeing as how I knew what it felt like not to be accepted for one's sexuality, but it was a bit of revenge getting the chance to be part of the majority for once. No doubt I'd joked about Matthew alongside with the others. 'As if such a pretty, scrawny boy can be straight!'

"Okay, cool." Daniel sounded as if he couldn't care less. I felt challenged and leaned back against the backrest as I raised my brows at him.

"What're you?" I asked.

"Straight," he answered relaxed, "but I do boys every now and then." The careless way he shrugged his shoulders at his own answer made me curious and confused.

"How can you be straight and still be with guys?"

"Well, you're gay because you like boys physically and mentally, right?"

"I suppose…" I had never really thought of it. Daniel gestured in the air as he continued his explanation:

"I like boys physically, but I could never be with one. That would just be odd. No, I want to date girls. But if it's just a fuck," he shrugged, "then I don't mind where the hole is situated at." I wasn't sure whether to laugh or feel insulted, and I ended up grimacing while grunting some odd words.

"Is that so?"

"It's just a fuck, right? Isn't it for you?" He looked at me, and I felt my tongue knot up in my mouth. Surely I couldn't speak of that before I'd actually been with a man, but just how pathetic would I sound if I said I was a virgin? I cleared my throat and tried to look completely calm as I shrugged:

"Well, of course. It doesn't always have to be about feelings." The words felt odd on my lips, but they made Daniel smile.

"Then you have to understand." He dragged the scarf off of his neck and started playing with it. "The first guy I fucked was back in high school. He was this shy, clever boy who always wrote poems on the back of his school papers. He was the one who dragged me down here first," he nodded towards the stairs. I shortly looked down at the basement, then back at him. He shook his head with a smile. "Man, he was a wild guy." I felt myself getting warm from his story. There wasn't anything really explicit to it, but it was the whole feeling of sitting next to a guy who had actually tried having gay-sex. I hadn't read any dirty stories or looked up pictures of naked men, because it just hadn't been something I'd thought about. Maybe that was why I got so childishly aroused from nothing.

"Have you had others?"

"Three others," he said and held up three fingers. He took the first one down: "Jerry was a bloke from London, poor in bed, but he had a big cock. Garret was a really hot man I met in town. And then there's one I'm still fucking. He's not out yet, though, so I'll rather not say his name." He pursed his lips secretively at me, and I tried to smile as if I'd heard such stories before.

"Of course."

"What about you? How many have you had?"

"Two," I blurted, and I knew I had to come up with names. Naturally I just used the first names which came to mind. "A punk named Evan and a football-player. Alfred." I could've kicked myself. Daniel seemed fairly interested, though, and he leaned in closer.

"How was Evan?"

"Horrible." The memory of that night at the party came back to me. I could clearly remember his smelly breath and bony, harsh fingers which tried to rip the pants off of my legs. "He was… too scrawny," I said.

"So you're into beefy guys?"

"I suppose…"

"So who is this football-player?" I looked at him and our eyes met. My lips were stretched into a fine, straight line on my face. I wanted to be cool and say all sorts, but I just couldn't make up a great sex-adventure which had never taken place. It was something I'd hoped to experience, but it had all been thrown away.

"He's my inspiration to the poem," I said slowly and clearly, pronouncing each word as if it was a vital part of the sentence. Daniel's playful glimpse faded away. It was as if he understood, or maybe I just hoped that he did. Maybe I was fooling myself to believe that he was nodding at my words. My lips shook a bit with anger as I spitefully choked: "Talking of mentally, he broke my heart." The joyful mood had turned nasty, and it was my own fault. Daniel broke eye-contact and looked down at his empty bottle. He then picked it up and got back up standing.

"I'll go get myself another one," he informed, and I nodded. I wasn't sure if it was his polite way of ending the conversation, and as he still hadn't returned after five minutes, I was about to get back inside. I knew I had ruined it for myself, but just as I got up from the bench, he walked up the stairs holding four beers. I felt the silly grin returning to my lips.

"Are you drinking all of those yourself?"

"Five beers in one evening isn't a lot," he said and held them up, "but I did plan on sharing."

"I just told you about Scott."

"And a sad story about some football-bloke. Now, come on," he said and dropped a bottle into my lap. It was cold and tingled my thighs even through my jeans. "Let's just say you owe me one." I looked towards the stairs and he shushed at me. "Scott is talking to some girls. He won't notice you're gone right away. Just think about how long you've already been out here."

"That's exactly what I am thinking about." I answered. Daniel put the other bottles down and took the one out of my hand. He chucked his teeth down around the cap and bit it off. I stared at him. "Wow."

"Here you go." He handed it to me, and I finally accepted it. The smell of beer was strong and lovely, and after yet a nervous look towards the stairs, I allowed for myself to gulp down the taste I'd longed for. Daniel laughed at my eagerness, and I almost spilled some laughing myself.

"Evan taught me to drink," I said.

"Sounds like a good boy."

"Well, it almost went wrong at some point." Daniel opened himself a bottle and looked at me encouragingly. I nodded and took yet a sip from the bottle before I started on the story of how I was tricked into drinking vodka while everyone else had water. He listened and laughed, and then he told me the story about how Jerry with the big cock had come early, and I made up a story about Evan having a pathetically small cock - not that I had ever seen it -, and soon I managed to stop worrying about Scott. Daniel was a fun guy. And he had experience.

* * *

I ended up drinking three of the beers while Daniel kept licking on his first bottle. He said I could just pay him next time, and then he would be the one drinking three beers. Though I doubted it, I merely nodded. It took more than three beers to make me drunk, but because I had had some time away from alcohol, I could feel its effect strongly. I didn't think as much, I talked a lot, and I laughed at every silly joke Daniel told. As darkness fell and the only light in the backyard came from the windows of the basement, I'd learned how to overlook his geeky side and just focus on the manly jock-side of him. If I narrowed my eyes enough, I didn't notice the gap between his two front teeth, and his freckles became a light tan across his cheeks. In the dark he was quite attractive.

"But yeah," Daniel said as he was ending a story I'd already forgotten the beginning of, "that's how I learned never to dance in clogs again." I chuckled and curled a bit up on the bench.

"That's neat."

"Yeah..." His arm was around my shoulders. The wool in his sweater was keeping me warm. Though I was wearing my jacket, the thin leather didn't exactly keep out the cold, and in the back of my mind I'd used that as an excuse for me moving in closer to him. I just wanted to be warm, I told myself. That was all there was to it. Besides, Daniel was straight. I snickered as I remembered. "What?" he asked.

"Straight," I said, and he looked confused. I shook my head and smiled up at the sky. Daniel mumbled something and tightened his hold around my shoulders. I could smell the alcohol in his breath, but the more I thought about it, the less I was sure that it was really him smelling and not me. I held up my hands in front of my lips, breathed out and took in a deep breath. I grimaced. "I stink," I said. "Mom won't be happy."

"Let me smell." I turned my head towards him, and he leaned in. I breathed out. He shook his head. "I can't smell anything. Don't worry."

"Are you sure?" He leaned in closer.

"Try again." I breathed out. He took in a deep breath and smiled. I chuckled silly. Then I breathed out again. This time he didn't try to smell my breath, but instead he hastily leaned in and kissed me. It wasn't a very sweet kiss, and I almost immediately felt his tongue poking at my lips, but in my confusion I reminded myself that I was supposedly experienced in this, and so I parted my lips and let him in.

He really did smell himself. I could taste the beer on his tongue as it slipped across mine, and when I turned my tongue up and it hit his teeth, I could taste that he was a smoker as well. The tip of my tongue fell into the gap between his front teeth, and I slipped it all the way in well amused by the odd feeling. I wasn't really turned on by him, but I was turned on by the thought of kissing someone, so as his hands grabbed around my waist, I didn't protest but allowed for him to touch wherever he wanted. It all felt very innocent, even as my hands grabbed onto his sweater, and I struggled to stretch my tongue in deeper. I felt very unprofessional. Our teeth clashed together, and I ripped my head back to moan. He licked his teeth with narrowed eyes.

"Ouch," he mumbled. Then he attacked my neck. I found myself awkwardly sitting partly on the bench, partly across his lap as I stretched my neck. I didn't feel lust but just a fat, wet tongue licking up my skin. Still I liked it a lot. Maybe because I didn't feel anything. He started gnawing on the skin around my Adam's apple, and the small pain almost made me feel sick, so I fought his head away and instead kissed him again. I was now holding onto his cheeks, squeezing the flesh in them harshly before letting go, so that I could instead stretch my fingers up into his curly locks. It occurred to me that had any of his stories been true, then I was sucking on the same lips which had been sucking on three different cocks. The thought turned me on instantly. "Here," Daniel mumbled and suddenly nudged my head downwards, "my neck." I awkwardly stuck my tongue out and licked a wet line down from his jaw to his jumping Adam's apple.

"Should I bite?" I asked in a whisper, but he didn't answer, and I sucked my lips harshly around a piece of skin. He groaned.

"That's a good boy," he said, and I felt a perverted pride fill me up. As I let go, I breathlessly laughed:

"You don't even know my name." His eyes met mine confused, and I felt I'd said something wrong. Then Scott's voice was suddenly heard:

"Arthur! Are you out here?" Daniel and I both sucked in our breaths and held them. I could hear Scott walking up the stairs. When I looked to the side, I could see something moving in the dark. "It's gotten late. Are you out here?" I looked at Daniel as if to tell him to keep quiet, but he felt up his neck and said:

"No." I felt like smacking him for being an idiot. Scott moved towards us. I slipped away from Daniel, angrily pushing his hands off of me, but Scott got the idea. He stopped a few steps away from us and smiled. Even in the dark his white teeth seemed to light up.

"Oops, am I interrupting?" he asked. He sounded happy. I stumbled onto my feet.

"No, I want to go home," I said. As I stood up, I could feel my cock had started going hard. It was poking the side of my leg, trapped clumsily in the fabric of my briefs. I cleared my throat.

"We don't have to leave now if you're busy," Scott said.

"I want to leave now." I turned to Daniel flustered. "Goodnight."

"You'll be here next time, right?"

"No," I answered.

"Yes," Scott said.

"You owe me a beer," Daniel said.

"Yes," I said.

"Have you been drinking?" Scott asked. I grabbed him by the arm and started pushing him towards the bikes. As we got over there, I noticed how many bikes from the bunch that had been moved away. Apparently people had been leaving while I'd been too busy speaking with Daniel to notice them head off. It was almost embarrassing to realise. Scott grabbed his bike and opened the lock while I stood waiting with my arms crossed. From the corners of my eyes I could see Daniel getting up and heading back downstairs.

"What's the time?" I asked. Scott checked.

"Around midnight."

"Fuck!" I got onto the bike almost immediately, and I hurried for Scott to do the same. "Dad will kill me."

"You stink of beer," Scott said and started rolling the bike out of the backyard. I shook my head.

"I haven't been drinking," I lied.

"Whatever. I see you've found a nice friend." Scott winked at me, and I pressed my forehead against his back and looked down. My boner was disappearing, and it made sitting more comfortable. It was odd how happy Scott sounded. Alfred who had known me for years hadn't been good enough to fight the least for, but some bloke I'd known for a few hours was worth parting my lips for. I didn't quite get Scott's logic, but it wasn't like I got my own. My head felt dizzy, and as I closed my eyes, I imagined Daniel's big hands slipping further down than my waist, grabbing at my pants and opening them up. It sent thrills down my spine. I felt very gay that night.

* * *

Saturday was awkward. I'd managed to sneak into bed without neither of my parents waking up, and they didn't question the fact that I slept past noon. After all I was a teenager. The awkward part was waking up with a boner from having dreamt I was being fucked by Daniel right there in the backyard. I had woken up horny several times before, sometimes without a reason and sometimes because I'd been dreaming of Alfred or some other bloke. But this time it felt different.

Fantasizing is something every guy is an expert at. Very few details are needed to carry on with a fantasy and I had more than enough details about Daniel to make it all work for me. I rolled around sweaty and hot in the little cave I'd built up with my duvet, and I jerked off twice to the memories I had and those I made up myself. I was all exhausted when I finally decided to get out of bed and shower.

I think I felt a bit guilty, just because I didn't even knew the guy's age, but I had still thrown myself at him. But the feeling of being attractive was overwhelming, and it was with a girly snicker that I noticed the little mark he'd left on my neck. It wasn't big enough to be noticed if you didn't know it was there, but I treasured it from the moment I saw it reflected in the mirror. It was somewhat my proof that I wasn't just a victim of bullying, but a person that someone else could want. It had meant a lot to me to become friends with Scott, and it would be a lie to say that I hadn't been attracted to his body, but that was all there had been to it. Suddenly being the focus of attention instead of giving it made me all giddy. I wasn't a sex god. But God - did I feel like I could become one!

"Seems like someone is in a good mood," Mom even said as I entered the kitchen. I felt I was very obvious, standing there in the doorway with a big grin on my lips, but she just smiled back at me before pecking my cheek like she did when I was a child. "Did it go well yesterday?"

"Everyone liked my poem," I just said and grabbed two eggs from the fridge. I pulled forward a frying pan and started to make myself some scrambled eggs. Mom was watching me amused.

"That's good to hear. Maybe writing is something you'll do when finished with school?"

"Maybe," I said though I doubted it. "Where's Dad?"

"At the pub with some friends," she said while watching me. She cleared her throat. "I was thinking that maybe we could sit and talk? It doesn't have to be today, just sometime soon." I turned to look at her.

"Talk about what?" She was glaring back at me with some sort of fear in her eyes. But as I kept waiting for her to answer and said nothing, she looked down.

"Never mind. Nothing." She left the kitchen, and I wrinkled my brows.

"Alright," I mumbled and returned to my eggs.

* * *

My experience with Daniel hadn't been anything extraordinary, but still I felt different as I attended class Monday morning. Just as Alfred had closed a door, it seemed a new one had opened; I could now finally fool around with other guys without feeling guilty. Alfred had always had his girls, but I had never had any boys in the same way. Now, however, I'd been drinking and kissing with an experienced, big man and he'd even asked if I would be coming by again. I knew what that meant and it made me smile.

I had never really felt the need to be with others, so it wasn't a relief in that sense, but I was well pleased to find that since Alfred didn't want me there still existed other guys who did. Even if it was just for a flirt and nothing serious. I wasn't sure I wanted something serious anyway. It seemed that relationships only brought drama with them and it occurred to me that maybe casual fucking wasn't a bad way to live one's life. I would still have friends like Scott if I needed to talk to someone. Did talking and fucking really have to mix up?

Scott didn't seem to think so. As we met at the bus stop, he was still all happy for me. "You're coming out of your shell," he said, and I had to laugh. "No more hiding away!"

"It was just this once," I said, though I was swelling with pride on the inside. Scott shushed me.

"Don't say that. You're having fun. It's good! You're opening up at the perfect time." He was referring to the return of Oscar. Even though he hadn't said it out aloud, I knew that when the guy came home, Scott wouldn't have the time to look after me as he did now. I couldn't really blame him for it as he'd already done more than what I would ever expect from a friend, but still I felt a tad awkward thinking about it. If he was to spend time with Oscar, then who should I start hanging out with? I would have to start meeting new friends and getting to know others. It seemed like such work, but somehow I was also very excited about it all.

As we entered school that morning, the first thing I noticed was Alfred standing alone by one of the trees in the yard. He was looking around as if he was waiting for someone. As I caught eye contact with him though, he swiftly turned his back to me and hurried inside. Scott looked in that direction as well.

"What's up with him?" he asked. I still hadn't told him about the conversation he and I had had, and I didn't feel like he needed to know. I was still angry at Alfred, but I wasn't fuming. I knew him too well to fool myself to believe that his only goal in this life was to hurt me.

"Oh, I think he saw Jennifer and went for her." I explained. Scott nodded.

"I hear they're having troubles."

"What kind of troubles?" He shrugged.

"I don't know. Just troubles." I wasn't sure if he was just making it up thinking that hearing such would make me happy, but I just shrugged it off. I couldn't see how Alfred could ever have troubles. Compared to me, he was made out of gold and diamonds and all things that never lose value. I may not have been fuming, but I was a tad jealous in my anger. Still I told myself that it was his turn to be jealous at me. I had good grades, friends and Daniel lusting after me. He had football and a girl with small boobs. I felt a nasty joy fill me up as I thought so. Yeah, Alfred should be jealous. I was the lucky one now.

My joy lasted until last block where a forced PE-class had sneaked its way in. I often left early on Mondays to avoid the humiliation in the field, and my teacher never reported it to anyone. I think he found it a blessing not having to deal with my poor body which always ruined it for everyone else. No one wanted to have me on the football, basketball or rugby team. Often I volunteered as a substitute, and I just sat on the bench doing homework. It was the easiest way to avoid troubles during class and it gave me some time to work up energy for avoiding troubles after class.

The biggest problem about PE was that I had to change and shower together with the other boys. I often skipped showering because I'd done nothing all day and hadn't sweated anyway, but still I would have to undress in front of them. It was my luck that things hadn't gotten physical yet, because I was far weaker than them and words could often become nasty when locked up in the same, smelly room. I think the only reason why anyone hadn't hit me yet was that I merely let them do whatever pleased them. I didn't consider it a weak move but a way to survive. As I told myself: just keep looking down at the floor so no one will accuse you for peeking at them, just keep quiet and do things quickly. Still they made up all sorts of excuses to mess with me.

"Man, look at his pants!" was the opening-line today as I'd taken off my shorts to put on my jeans. I looked down at my underwear. I was wearing common white ones, but a bit of discoloration had made them a tad yellow to look at. "He's pissed in them."

"Maybe it turns him on," someone said. I grabbed at my jeans and sat down on the bench as I started to put them on.

"Are you turned on, Arthur?" I didn't answer them. Suddenly my bag next to me was ripped down from the bench, and I could hear them open it behind me. "Do you have any more silly poems?"

"Should we hand one over to your American dream?" They laughed loudly. I could hear my stuff being rummaged through and checked out. A piece of paper was ripped in two. I could only suppose it was one of my drawings. Then the bag was thrown back at me.

"Fuck off, faggot." I grabbed my shirt and put it on before I turned to look at my bag. Luckily, most of my things were intact. I had made sure to empty my back from anything interesting to keep them away from me. I reached down for the drawing which had been ripped in two and tried to fold the bits nicely so that I could tape them back together at home. Meanwhile the guys got busy with their usual talking.

"My girl still isn't giving me head," one of them said and another one shook his head.

"You should get someone else."

"I just don't get it. All girls give head, don't they?" I acted as if I was busy with my bag, but while my hands worked inside of it, my eyes peeked up between my eyelashes towards the boy talking. He was broad and had a big nose. I remembered his name - Peter. "They do in the magazines."

"My girl loves giving me head," another guy said. Peter looked well jealous.

"Yeah, I should get another girl," he stated. I couldn't help but to feel extremely amused. They still hadn't noticed me listening. I started to put on my shoes.

"Annie won't even jerk me off," a smaller, chubby one chirped. Louis. "She says she doesn't feel ready. What the fuck does that mean? Ready?" Peter laughed:

"It means she thinks your cock is small."

"Fuck off." Some underwear was thrown through the room. "You're the one not getting head."

"You're the one not getting anything." I smiled a bit and tied my shoes. They turned somewhat silent, and as I peeked up again, I saw them looking at me. I straightened up, my smile quickly gone. "Do you think this is funny?" Peter asked challenging. I shook my head.

"No," I whispered.

"We're just happy our girls have a bit of pride," Louis said and spat at me, "compared to a cheap cocksucker like you." I pulled up my bag and started to leave. I had to walk alongside the benches to get to the door, and on my way Peter grabbed me by the arm. He sent me a nasty look.

"Are you volunteering to suck cock?" he asked. I felt breathless and shook my head.

"No. No, I am not. I wasn't listening," I said.

"He just wants to suck Alfred's cock," someone said. Peter made a gagging sound, and the others cheered.

"Alfred would never let a man touch him."

"What do you know?" I mumbled. They got quiet. I bit my lower lip and almost waited to be hit, but instead someone snickered. They seemed amused.

"Oh, have you touched him?" one asked. I knew I should shut up. My heart was beating rapidly, and it was making my Adam's apple jump. I suddenly felt the need to take a shit. I was scared.

"He wishes!" Louis said. Peter pushed me so that I stumbled backwards and hit the wall. My bag softened the hit though, and I merely grimaced to satisfy them, hoping that they would not attack me again. He pointed his finger at me.

"You keep quiet about your perverted fantasies," he said warningly. I stared up into his eyes. "Ok?" I didn't answer. His gaze flickered. "Fuck off," he then said and turned his back to me. The others started speaking about girls again. I slipped alongside the wall to the door and exited quietly.

I knew I was being an idiot for bringing myself into trouble like this, but sometimes I just couldn't help it. I knew that me defending myself kept the game funny, but if I just bended over completely, I was sure to get raped at some point. I would rather battle a bit every day than end up at the hospital at once.

Still I started to make up a strategy to avoid the bullies as much as possible. I made sure to walk with my classmates to the cafeteria, so that I would always be around people. When eating my lunch, I sat together with Scott and listened to him getting more and more excited about Oscar coming home. Though the bullying didn't completely stop just because I wasn't alone, it quieted down and became more tolerable. Neither of them wanted to include Scott in their nasty poems, because he was still one of the gang, so hanging around him kept me happy and unharmed. I was at most danger when I needed to pee. I couldn't exactly ask Scott to escort me to the toilets (and just how gay would that look?), so I often either kept it inside the whole day, or went to pee during classes. By doing so they would never know when I was alone and when I was not, and as they couldn't exactly dismiss each and every of their classes in hope of my bladder weakening, it gave me some peace of mind.

My strategy wasn't bullet-proof though, and so I happened to walk in on Alfred using one of the urinals during class. It was Friday afternoon during block 4, and I hadn't really expected to see anyone, so I was a bit startled as I entered the bathroom and made eye-contact with him. His stream of piss stopped immediately. I hurried past him to use one of the stalls, but only the one with the broken door was free. Awkwardly I waited for a few seconds before walking back to the urinals, choosing the one the furthest away from Alfred. He was standing with a concentrated look on his face, the one guys use when they have just noticed that the man standing next to them has a bigger cock and they're trying not to look at it for too long and just keep peeing. Apparently, Alfred also used that face in a situation like this. I probably looked about the same as I unzipped and let go of what I had kept in all day. I could feel Alfred peeking. Still I couldn't care enough to leave. I was stubborn; if anyone was to leave, it had to be him!

We were quiet, even as a guy left the stall and washed his hands and exited the bathroom we didn't flinch one bit. I was done before Alfred, and I shook my cock off before hurrying to the basins. As I started washing my hands, Alfred joined me at the basin next to my right. I almost spilled soap all over, but I tried not to look surprised. He turned on the water.

"Are you really gay?" he asked, and I felt annoyed immediately.

"What do you think?" I hissed at him. He seemed to blush a bit.

"How can you be sure it's not just a phase?" I looked up at myself in the mirror, and the third, last stall opened up. A girl had sneaked into the boy's bathroom as the girls' one had been under renovation for a while. As she saw us, she blushed furiously and didn't even wash her hands before she hurried out of there. I took in a deep breath.

"It's not," I said while I was still staring at my own reflection.

"How can you be sure?" he pressed on. I ripped some paper loose and started to wipe off my hands in an angry move. I frowned at him:

"I really don't think you have the right to ask me such questions!" Alfred looked as if I had hit him, but then he straightened up.

"Fine," he said. I threw the paper into the bin.

"Fine," I said as well and left the bathroom fuming. All I could think about was how idiotic he was to even speak to me after all that had been going on. Surely he must've read the poems engraved in the stalls and heard the songs which were spreading like gossip. I kicked the air on my way back to class. How could anyone even think that being gay is a phase?

* * *

Alfred inspired me to be even more gay than before. When I arrived at the poetry slam that evening, I hadn't brought any poem with me, but I was looking out for Daniel. To my disappointment I couldn't see him though, and I sat down with Scott, Marco and Matthew at the table in the corner. The reciting began, and I was feeling annoyed that he would ask about me coming by again and then not even be there himself, but just as I was about to let it go, he poked my shoulder and leaned in over me. Matthew stared at him as if he'd seen a ghost. I just smiled.

"Daniel," I whispered. I tried to keep it down not to disturb the girl on stage. She was halfway through a talk about how having a period makes one a woman. Or something the like. I hadn't been listening.

"Sorry I am late," he said. Scott looked at him as well and smiled. "Can I borrow you for a moment?"

"Of course," Scott said, and I sent him a glare. Then I nodded to Daniel and got up.

"Who is he?" Matthew asked, but Scott shushed at him.

"I want to hear the poem," he lied. I just raised my brows at Matthew before following Daniel in between the chairs and tables. He stopped by the bar, and I gave him the money to buy two beers before he lead me on. I thought we were heading outside, but instead he did a turn and entered the bathrooms. I'd never been in the need of using them, so I hadn't really realised that they were there, but we entered what was a surprisingly clean place. There was the usual smell of urine, graffiti on the walls and a bit of wet paper thrown here and there, but in between the stink I could smell detergent. Someone was paid to keep the place somewhat sanitary.

"Why are we going in here?" I asked. Daniel closed the door behind, and I heard how all the sounds were blocked out by the heavy stone-walls. I couldn't hear the girl speaking on stage, nor the little sound of mumbling from the tables. I could only hear myself breathing and Daniel opening the beers up against a basin.

"I need to take a piss," he said. I almost felt a déjà vu to earlier when Alfred had been pissing as well, but at least this time, I wouldn't have to face odd questions. I held our beers and drank of my own while Daniel zipped down in front of the urinals. There was no sign of shyness to him. I couldn't help but to watch him. From the right angle, I could even see his fat, red cockhead. I tried to clear my throat gently.

"How have you been?" I asked and sipped of the beer. Daniel shrugged.

"Common. And you?"

"Common." The silence was devastating. I had started to feel warm. Daniel looked over his shoulder back at me, and I raised the bottle to my lips. "I met Alfred today."

"Oh?" He smiled a bit. "Did he look well?"

"He asked me if being gay is a phase." Daniel laughed and I smiled around the bottle. I took yet a sip. Daniel was tugging his cock back in. It somewhat relieved and somewhat disappointed me.

"I suppose that for some it is."

"Like you?" He didn't wash his hands, but just reached for his beer. I gave it to him, and we stood there drinking for a bit. He then put his beer down by the basins.

"Let me show you a funny poem," he said and turned towards the stalls. I blinked as he walked in there and opened the door. I was about to follow him, then he gestured towards my bottle. "Leave that out here."

"Okay?" I put it down next to his before I took in a deep breath. I think I knew what was coming, but I tried to fool myself to believe that no, that couldn't be it! Still I was trembling like an aspen leaf as I edged my way over there. I stopped in the entrance. Daniel had moved to make room for me.

"Come in here," he said with a warm, gentle voice. I walked in. He reached in over me and closed the door. "Could you lock it?" he asked. I was standing with my front to his, and I tried to reach behind to lock the door, but I couldn't find the handle, and I felt my hand roam all over. I was nervous. After a few seconds I turned around and carefully watched as I locked the door. As soon as it clicked in, Daniel's arms slipped around me and his big, right hand cupped me through the jeans. It caught me by surprised, and I yelped out loudly.

"What are you doing?" I asked, though it was very obvious.

"Should I stop?" he asked. I hesitated.

"No," I then answered. I could feel his warm breath on my neck and I stretched it a bit as he sunk his teeth into it. My hands were placed flat on the door in front of me as his palm rubbed over the bulge that was forming in my pants and my breath seemed stuck somewhere in the back of my throat. As I tried to move, I spread my legs further, and his other hand placed itself on my ass to feel it up. I gritted my teeth together. This was far beyond what I'd imagined could ever happen to me in real life. My heart was beating rapidly, and my face was all red, and as I simply couldn't hold my breath anymore, I breathed in loudly. It sounded like a gasp. Daniel gently smacked my ass and grabbed me by the hips as he pulled me backwards and started rubbing himself against me.

"Can you feel me?" he asked. I couldn't feel anything through my jeans, but I was too embarrassed to turn around and let him see my red face. I grabbed myself between my legs, maybe to cover up, and Daniel placed his hand on top of mine and gently led me to feel myself up.

"I can't feel you like this," I finally said. He let go of me and I turned around, and tried to keep my face facing the floor so that he wouldn't notice how shy I actually was about it all. I didn't want for him to know that I was a virgin. I was afraid that it would turn him off, so that he would leave me here to finish the job myself. I wasn't sure how I was going to have him finishing this for me, but I didn't want to let this opportunity slip away.

As I didn't do anything right away, Daniel opened up his own pants and tugged at his briefs. I knew it was a cue. Luckily, I wasn't a virgin when it came to jerking off. Alfred and I had tried that several times on each other, so I freed his cock from the briefs before I spat in my hand and grabbed at it. It was big, brown and with a shining red head. What startled me a bit was that he wasn't circumcised, just like myself. Alfred had no foreskin, and as I hadn't really touched any other foreskin that my own, the feeling was a bit odd. Daniel leaned a bit down.

"Come on, dirty boy," he whispered in my ear and gave it a short lick and I felt my cheeks heat up again. I closed my eyes and started to feel up his cock, at first a bit clumsily, but soon I found a rhythm that seemed to work for both of us. I think he started moaning, but I couldn't hear it over my own heartbeat. It was so loud. The sound filled up my head. Thump, thump, thump.

Suddenly Daniel's hands were back at my pants. He unzipped them and pulled out my cock. He started to jerk it off in the same rhythm as me, and I found it hard to concentrate on both being jerked and jerking off at the same time. The feeling was very new to me. I felt dirty. Everything I had done with Alfred had been done because we knew each other, trusted each other and could correct each other. I didn't dare to correct Daniel one bit. Whenever he squeezed a bit too harshly, I just grunted and let it go, and somehow the fact that he didn't do it right was even better than when he did it just fine. He was getting me close quickly and I'd started rubbing my forehead to his chest. I grabbed him with both my hands and moaned out. My heart was still going thump, thump, thump.

Then I came. My legs were weak and shaking and my cock spurted way earlier than I think either of us had expected. He pulled his hand back and trusted himself up into my hands and just as he was about to come, he slapped my weak fingers away and jerked himself to the end. I could just lean back against the closed door and watch as he came. All professionally, he left a very little mess, quickly regained control over himself and zipped himself back up. I was still all dazed.

"Alright," I said, as I didn't know what else to say. Daniel gestured towards my groin, and I quickly hid myself away. After having caught my breath again, I unlocked the door and stumbled over to the basins to wash my hands off. This time Daniel washed his as well. Both our beers were still standing untouched, but I had forgotten which belonged to whom. Daniel just grabbed one of them and took a sip. Then he handed me the other.

"Next Friday?" he asked and I accepted the beer with a weak smile and nodded.

"Next Friday." My forehead was sweaty. Daniel told me to clean myself up before I went back to Scott's table. He sounded so casual I could only relax. It was just a jerk off. Nothing more, nothing less. But I felt like a god.

* * *

I didn't tell Scott about what I'd been doing, but I think he already knew. He didn't joke about it as I'd somewhat expected him to, but he returned to his wink-all-the-time-routine and then he smiled knowingly whenever he caught me looking at some bloke. It was as if he thought I was now into everyone around me. It wasn't that at all. But I was very much into seeing Daniel again the following Friday.

Mom kept being odd, and I couldn't quite figure out why. Meanwhile Dad had started to spend more and more time down at the pub. "Is he turning into an alcoholic?" I jokingly asked Mom as we had dinner alone on Sunday. She smiled at me nicely.

"No. He just wants to see his friends."

"So, really, he just wants to avoid us?" She didn't answer me, and I shrugged it off. I knew she had plenty to take care of and I didn't really want to be just another one of her problems. She was poking around the vegetables on her plate.

"Don't you ever see Alfred anymore?" I shook my head and grabbed the salt.

"We're not friends anymore."

"Oh…" She looked surprised. "That's sad. When did that happen?"

"I don't know. We just stopped talking?" She looked back down at her plate.

"You hang out a lot with Scott."

"Yeah, he's a good friend."

"Does he have a girlfriend?" I hesitated shortly, but I tried to keep the conversation running smoothly:

"Yeah, but she's been travelling. She's coming home soon, though. Then he probably won't have time for me!" I laughed, and she chuckled a bit.

"I see. Hmm, maybe you have to get a girlfriend yourself, then?" I should've expected that we would end up discussing that. I almost regretted having talked about girlfriends in the first place, but I couldn't really just say that I misunderstood and that no, Scott has no girlfriend and let's talk about something else! She was looking at me with a soft smile on her lips - the kind of smile only a mother can give her children. I felt bad lying to her.

"Maybe," I just said as I couldn't make myself reject the idea fully.

"See, I think you've had troubles finding one because of Alfred," she said as I'd hoped she would just let it be. "He is quite a handsome guy, and when at your age that's all the girls go for. But you'll see. The girls get tired of muscles and rugby. They'll be hungering for intellect by the time school ends, and then you'll be next in line." She pointed at me with her fork. I looked at the carrot hanging from the end of it. She was trying to cheer me up, but I didn't feel joyful.

"We'll see," I said. "I'm in no hurry." Mom nodded and accepted that as an answer. I was just happy to be let in peace.

* * *

The next day I made the stupid choice of attending PE. I was late on purpose because I'd been around the library to borrow a book to read while sitting on the bench. Normally it made no difference whether I turned up late or not, but today proved to be different. As I exited the changing room and walked down the hill to the field, I saw everyone standing in a group waiting for me. Had it not been for the teacher, I would've turned around and left immediately. Though it was only about half of the guys who seemed to hate me, they all looked very annoyed as I approached them. The teacher waved me closer.

"Why are you late? This will have consequences," he said. I'd never had him paying me attention before and I just stood there nervously while he put down some notes. I was holding onto my book. As he noticed it, he gestured towards the bench. "Put it down. You're playing today."

"I am?" I said surprised.

"We're one guy short," one of the blokes said. He shrugged as I looked towards him. "Ill, probably."

"Hammered, probably," someone added. Jokes were being shared. I didn't feel as if I was part of it at all and I slowly walked over and put down the book.

"Alright," the teacher said and straightened up. He was an elderly man with a stomach too big for his pants. He was one of these men who used to be handsome sports fanatics, but had now turned old, drunk and bothersome. He was holding onto his paper as if it could save his life and he kept taking notes as if every word we said could be used against us. I wisely shut up. "Now Arthur's here, let's begin with a light warm-up. Twenty push-ups each, and I will be counting, so don't try to fool me." We spread out on the grass. I placed myself in the very back not to be noticed. I knew I couldn't even do five push-ups properly, but I fell to the ground as all the others did and started abusing my arms to the teacher's loud counting; one, two, three...

I'd always been a failure when it came to sport. That was why Dad had loved Alfred so much; Alfred was always acting as a proper guy, getting himself dirty and playing football constantly. I was sitting in my room studying. Somehow achieving an A meant so much less than winning a game. As I lied there on the ground struggling to catch up with the other guys, I wondered just why I had turned out to be as I did. Dad had always told me stories about great sportsmen and bought me thick comics with masculine superheroes in them, and he'd told me what a great thing it was to serve one's nation by being a soldier or policeman or something physical. 'Real life is taught outside the universities,' he'd once told me. When I was seven, he even paid to have me playing rugby and though I hated it, I went there each week to practice with the other boys just because it made him happy. I was never good at it, but just seeing me trying seemed to cheer him up. The only thing I enjoyed was sitting with the others during breaks and talk. I became good friends with a guy named Vincent who had also been forced to play. Whenever we could, we would sneak off together and play games in the changing room. He once grabbed me by the wrist and said that him and I should always be best friends.

Two weeks later he was taken off the team. His mom had passed away and they couldn't afford to have him playing anymore. The loss of Vincent affected me so much that I begged Dad to take me off the team as well and in the end he did. I can't remember having seen him as disappointed as he was the day he paid my last membership fee.

"Arthur, don't fall asleep!" I woke up from my daydreaming. The others around me were standing up snickering. I quickly got back onto my feet. The teacher shook his head. "Alright, everyone. Now run five laps around the field. Again - I will be keeping an eye on you!" The others set off. I brushed the dirt and grass off of my hands first and then started to run. I wanted to stay behind the others, but as I saw them hurry off, I knew they were going to surpass me from behind very soon. I just tried to keep up the best I could.

After a while Peter had made it up to my right. I kept my eyes on the ground while I waited for him to pass me by, but he slowed down to jog in my pace. "So now you're going to ruin it for us all today, hah?" he asked. "Stupid fag - football is going to suck!"

"Hey, leave him alone." I peeked to the side as another guy passed us by. I didn't know his name. I'd only seen him in this single PE class and then sometimes around school hanging out with a girl. He nodded at me. "It's not his fault he's being forced into this."

"Fuck off," Peter said, but he speeded up again and soon they were in front of me. I sighed.

"Arthur!" the teacher roared, "I am watching you!" I grimaced and speeded up the best I could, but my legs were already hurting after having run around the field once and I was sweating horribly. I hadn't expected to practice so I hadn't even brought a towel with me, and I now feared the long trip home where I would have to sit on the bus reeking like a pig.

"Have you had enough?" Now Louis had caught up with me. His round face was all red and sweaty just like mine, but apparently he had trained his muscles better than me. At least he was keeping up with the others. "With all you've been running away from us, I thought you would be in a better shape by now."

"The same to you," I replied. Louis snorted.

"Don't get cheeky. I don't want to fuck you."

"That's nice to hear," I breathed and gasped in air. My right knee was a mess. "Considering the size of your cock, I wouldn't be able to tell if you were inside of me anyway!" He launched at me and pushed me down onto the grass. I hit the ground surprised and glared at him. He was looking at me angrily.

"How was that?" he spat. I looked towards the teacher, but he seemed uninterested in what was going on between us. Still he was taking notes. I stood up and pushed him back.

"How was this?" I shouted at him. From the corner of my eye I could see Peter cutting a corner and heading straight towards us. He was pretty quick.

"What's going on?" he yelled.

"This little fucker is being nasty again!" Louis chirped quickly.

"We were merely discussing the size of your cock," I hissed calmly. Louis looked at Peter who kicked the grass.

"Fuck you, only a gay guy would talk about cock!"

"Weren't you talking about yours last time?" I asked. Peter narrowed his eyes at me. I couldn't help but to smirk. "Are you still not getting any head?"

"Why? Do you long to give me some?" he asked me. I shook my head and wiped some sweat off of my forehead. I knew the other guys had started noticing us now. They were coming closer.

"Why do you keep asking? Do you wish I would?" Peter pushed me and I pushed him back. As Louis tried to step in though, Peter sneered at him:

"Go away!" Louis stepped to the side and Peter walked all the way in close to me. We were standing chest-to-chest. I was looking up at him, and I was trying to look all calm and collected though I didn't feel that way. But strangely I didn't feel very intimidated either. They'd already taken everything away from me. There was nothing left for me to lose to their pathetic rumours. The word was out; I was gay, and I'd been in love with Alfred. End of story. "I bet you touch a lot of cocks. Gross!"

"As a matter of fact I do," I said provocative, and he raised his brows surprised. "I jerked a guy off last Friday! When did your girlfriend last touch your cock?" I lowered my voice and whispered: "Never?" He punched me right in the stomach. I bent forward as all air was punched out of me and he kicked my knee soon after.

"Fuck you! You're such a… faggot! Disgusting homo!" He went for my head. This time I fought back. He grabbed me by the hair, and I grabbed him by the cheeks as we fell to the ground and started wrestling. The other guys had reached us; some of them were cheering us on, others were trying to get us to stop. The teacher had finally noticed us.

"Stop, stop! Don't be idiots!" He pushed the guys out of the way. They'd circled around us. As Peter was shoved off of me, I was lying on the ground with blood running from my nose and scratches all the way down my arms. I sat up and stumbled back onto my feet myself. No one offered me a helping hand. "This is too stupid! You're not children anymore!"

"He spoke shit about me!" Peter yelled and pointed to me. To my satisfaction I noticed his lower lip was bleeding.

"You're the one attacking me all the time!" I shouted back.

"Why would he do that, hah?" the teacher asked me in disbelief. The guy who had surpassed us earlier cleared his throat.

"It's true, coach," he said weakly. I looked at him, but he avoided looking at me as he mumbled: "It's because Arthur is gay."

"He's what?" the teacher asked and shook his head. "If you don't pull yourself together, your parents will hear about this!" He was warning me. Peter, however, he didn't say a word to. I was staring back at him, and I could feel my vision getting blurry with tears. I didn't want to cry, though.

"He said I was disgusting," I whispered. The teacher looked at me as if he thought just the same.

"Go home," he said and turned around. "The rest of you, follow me. There'll be no football-game today." They left me standing there alone as they went for a run around town. Only as I couldn't see them anymore, I started sobbing loudly and tried to dry off my nose. I don't know how, but somehow I managed to get back to the changing room and get out of my clothes. Not having brought a towel with me was the least of my worries. I just changed into my regular clothes, pulled up my bag and went home the way I looked.

I knew there was no way that the teacher would inform my parents of this, but being reminded of just how alone I was when at school hurt me. Just as well as I fitted in at the poetry slam, just as much I would stand out when in school. This was even supposed to be the place where I did the best at, got A's and made friends like Scott. Still they didn't really want me there. I was a red apple thrown in between a bunch of green ones and sometimes it felt good, and other times I just couldn't handle it.

As I came home, Mom was still there. She had dressed up for work and was standing in the hallway putting on her scarf as I entered. When she saw me, she clasped her hands up in front of her lips. "Arthur!" I looked at her with a painful smile.

"Hey Mom."

"What happened?" I kicked off my shoes and closed the door behind. I couldn't tell the truth, so I just came up with whatever was closest to it.

"I had an accident at PE," I lied. "We were supposed to run around the field, but I fell over and hit the ground hard."

"Why didn't you clean yourself up?" she asked me and peeled at the dried blood by my nose. I shook my head.

"I was a bit of a cry-baby. I just wanted to get home." I wasn't sure if she believed me, but she followed me out into the bathroom where she helped me clean up my face. I really felt like a baby as I sat there on the toiled while Mom cleaned my nose with a piece of wet toilet paper. "I can do it myself, you have work," I said, but she just sighed and continued.

"Sometimes I worry for you, Arthur."

"If Dad asks, let's just say I've been in a fight," I said, "that will make him happy." Mom smiled at that.

"It surely will. Do you have a headache? Do you want a pain killer?"

"I can get one myself," I said and got up. Mom started to wash the dirt off of her hands.

"They're on the bedside table." I walked into her bedroom and to what looked like her side of the bed. She'd left her bra out. I tried not to look at it and just grabbed the red package off the table. As I did so, I caught a hold of the cord of the lamp, and I managed to rip everything down from the little table before it tipped over. "Fuck!" I whispered and threw the pills on the bed while I quickly tried to clean it all up.

"Did you find them?" Mom shouted.

"Yeah!" I yelled back. I pushed the table back up standing, but as I was about to collect her cheap, romantic novels and stuff them back in, I noticed some pink and blue flyers which had been spread all over the floor. I picked one of them up. On front it said:

LGBT - it's okay to be at doubt!

I blinked and looked down the piece of paper. It was a flyer informing about being gay in England. As I started looking at the other flyers, I realised that they were all of that kind. One thing had been underlined on one of the blue ones, the question:

I think my son is gay - what should I do?

"Did you find them?" Mom's voice asked again, and she entered the bedroom. I stood up still holding onto the flyers. As she saw me, her smile faded away. "Why are you going through my stuff?" she asked. Her voice was stern.

"What are these?" I asked. She walked over and ripped them out of my hand.

"It's none of your business," she said and tucked them back in underneath her books. I glared at her.

"None of my business? This has very much to do with me!" I shouted. "Why are you reading that?"

"You have to admit that you've been acting strange recently!" She said hastily and turned to look at me. I shook my head.

"Do you think I am gay?"

"I don't know!" She shrugged. Her eyes were big and wild. "Do you? What are you, Arthur? What am I to believe? You never tell me anything!"

"There is nothing to tell!"

"- but still you run off with Alfred and Evan and Scott and I never see a girl around. Not one."

"They're friends!" I shouted. I couldn't believe what was going on. I started to edge my way around her and out of the room. She followed me. "Can't I have friends?"

"Of course you can, Arthur! I am just asking you. Are you gay?" It was right on my tongue. I was ready to say it. I turned around in the doorway and looked at her. She sighed before I got the time to say anything, though. "You don't have to be afraid. I've read a lot about it. It's probably just a phase you're going through." I gawked. I recognised that sentence all too well.

"A phase?" I repeated. She nodded and placed her hands on my shoulders.

"Just look at all the pretty girlfriends Alfred has now, I-"

"You haven't fucking talked to Alfred about this, have you?" I backed away from her. She'd started to look angry.

"Of course I haven't!"

"How about his mom?"

"Arthur, I can't go through this alone either. You have to understand that your dad isn't exactly one to talk to, and-"

"You have!" I cried out. "You have talked to her!"

"She understood what I am going through!"

"What are you going through?" I yelled back at her. She hid her face behind her hands. I'd unzipped my jacket as I came home, but now I zipped it back up again. "Unbelievable…"

"I don't know what to do with you," she whispered. I put my shoes back on and opened the door.

"You don't have to do a fucking thing." I said, and then I closed it behind. I didn't know where to go. I just stood there in the stairway and could hear her cry on the other side of the door. I was completely at loss. I felt like crying myself.

As Dad came home, no one said a word. He happily told us about how he might be getting a big cheque very soon. Mom just smiled and praised him. I didn't look at them. "Aren't you happy, Arthur?" Dad finally asked me. "We might be well off again soon!"

"I know," I mumbled. But silently I added: it's probably just a phase we're going through!


	21. 21

Sitting on the bus Thursday afternoon I tried to make sense of my life. To my own surprise I found that it wasn't all that hard. My life wasn't messy, it simply just sucked and every time I seemed to move a step forward towards something better, someone would jump in and punch me right back to where I'd started at. I'd just not expected Mom to end up being one of my many worries.

She hadn't mentioned anything about my sexuality since I discovered the leaflets a few days ago. She hadn't even touched the topic of girlfriends though it had become her favourite subject to discuss. She just acted as if nothing had ever happened between us, smiled at me and gave me a few more coins for lunch or 'whatever I felt like spending them on' as she would put it. Still I kept them at home in my drawer. I didn't dare to bring anything of value to school in case someone decided to raid my bag. They'd take money from me before and since I had scratched Peter's face into bleeding, they've really been looking out for me. I couldn't help but to wonder if they would soon become violent with me. That was how it always ended in movies - with a harsh beating. I shuddered at the thought and forced myself to close my eyes as I leaned up against the window. If they really decided to gang up on me, I would have no chance of defending myself. I would be like a fly fighting a spider after having been caught up in its web. It was a battle that had already been lost before it started.

I was so caught up in my pathetic metaphor that I didn't even notice the girl that had shown up next to me. It wasn't before she repeated her words a third time that I snapped out of my thoughts and looked up: "Is it okay if I sit here?" Jennifer was standing next to me. She had her hair put up in a ponytail, and her eyes had been lined with heavy, black make-up. She looked like a model. I immediately felt repulsed. Still I grabbed at my bag and dragged it to the floor between my legs.

"Sure." She sat down next to me with a kind smile. I shortly glanced around the bus before looking out the window again. There were plenty of empty seats.

"What are you up to?" she asked me and turned in her seat so that she was partly facing me. I shrugged and glanced back at her.

"I'm on my way home?" She nodded.

"Alright."

"Yeah.." I peeled a thread out of my jacket just to do something with my hands. I wanted to look as if I was too busy to talk to her, but I couldn't exactly pull forward a book now and start reading. It would be rude and she would surely be able to tell that I was trying to get rid of her. I didn't want to be mean, I just wanted for her to go away.

"I'm on my way to the library." I raised my brows uninterested.

"Oh?"

"Just to study a bit. Do you want to go?" I shook my head and wrinkled my brows at her odd question. She just shrugged. "Okay."

"Was that what you wanted to ask me?" I asked and looked into her eyes as she acted surprised.

"I didn't want to ask you anything in particular, we're just talking, right?"

"Are we really?" I looked back out of the window. She was quiet for a moment.

"Is something wrong?" she then asked gently and I huffed shortly.

"You don't have to be stupid."

"Sorry, but I don't get it."

"Well, neither do I." I looked back at her, this time not hiding away my annoyance. I'm sure it was glowing from my eyes. "You're with Alfred. And I'm not even his friend anymore. I see no reason for us to talk." I could tell she was hurt, but I didn't flinch. She bit her lower lip and looked down at her hands resting in her lap.

"I'm really just trying to be nice."

"You shouldn't."

"I know you have it rough."

"It's none of your fucking business."

"It is!" She almost yelled the words. I glanced around the bus. A few heads had turned, and when I looked back at Jennifer, her cheeks had gotten red and she leaned a bit forward in embarrassment. She peeked at me from the corners of her eyes. "You used to be friends. And Alfred still talks about you," she whispered.

"He does?" I blurted out a bit too quickly. She smiled, but I shook my head at her indifferent. "It doesn't matter. He's been a jerk."

"I just wish I knew what has been going on between you." I glared out the window again. The sincerity of her words almost made me feel sick.

I didn't want for her to care. I didn't want for anyone to care for what had been going on between Alfred and me. It was in the past and I surely would've liked for it all to have gone differently, but it hadn't. Alfred wasn't gay and he couldn't accept the fact that I was because he wanted to be popular. The more unpopularity I was faced with, the more I understood him and the angrier I became. It was hard not to be accepted. It was horrible going to school knowing that someone hated me because of what I did behind closed doors. Still Jennifer was sitting here expecting for me to just open up to her. But I couldn't open up to someone straight. How should someone like her be able to understand what I was going through? She could hold hands with Alfred in public and kiss him and everyone would just think that they were cute. But if I held hands with a man and kissed him, people would think we were putting on a show or being gross. I had to mind my every step. She only had to mind her make-up. We really had nothing in common but the fact that we both knew Alfred. Though talking to her made me wish I didn't.

"You should ask Alfred," I finally said. She hadn't expected for me to speak up again and she just stared at me with a painful look to her eyes. "Because if he wants for you to know, he'll tell you."

"I'm afraid to. I care for him," she said, "because I really like him." Her words stroke me as odd. She liked him? Didn't she _love_ him? Wasn't a couple supposed to be together because of love and not like? I'd loved Alfred. I quickly grabbed my bag and pushed my way past her.

"I'm getting off here," I said and moved forward in the bus to get out. She got up and followed me.

"You don't live here," she said. I wondered from where she knew that.

"I do," I still lied and didn't look back as I thanked the driver and jumped off the bus. She stopped in the door, blocking it so that people couldn't get in. I turned to look at her with a scowl. "What?"

"I'm really sorry about all that's been going on," she said. I hesitated. As she walked back into the bus, I spat:

"Like hell you are."

* * *

It was a long walk home. I'd gotten off three stops too early and by the time I arrived at the front door, I had red cheeks and sweat down my back. Mom had already left for work and Dad hadn't come home yet. I locked myself in and went to the kitchen to grab something to eat. I noticed a note from Mom on the fridge. 'Be good!' it said. I wasn't sure whether it was aimed at me or Dad.

Looking at all the small notes and postcards she'd put up over time, I started to ponder. I'd been reminded of the leaflets again. Just what kind of things had she discovered in them? What kind of questions did she have and what answers had they given her? I glanced out the door and through the living room towards the bedroom. I wanted to know and in a rush of curiosity I hurried to open the door and slip around the bed to the table to look for the leaflets. They weren't there. I lifted her novels and the lamp and even flickered through the pages of her magazines, but she'd taken them all and put them elsewhere. I just didn't know where. I looked around. Little light was making its way through the gap between the two, heavy curtains, and I felt as if I had walked into a cave of heat and privacy. I knew I wasn't supposed to be in there, but I had a strong feeling that she hadn't thrown out the brochures.

I think I convinced myself that it was my right to know what was going on in the flat, so I didn't even feel guilty as I started searching the closets. It wasn't until I dropped to my knees and peeked underneath the bed though that I discovered a small box. I pulled it out and cringed as I opened it to take a look. I recognized the nicely wrapped up dildo I'd discovered when a kid, but which I hadn't known the use for back then. Next to it was a pair of handcuffs and tied up in a bundle were the leaflets I was looking for. I tried to tug them out without touching anything else and sat back onto the floor with my back facing the box. I untied the ribbon and looked through the papers. She had a lot of the same brochures and there were only four different kinds. Two of them generally explained LGBT-rights (and what LGBT even meant - luckily, as it was a word I'd never heard before), the other two focused on gay men. I shortly glanced up at the clock above the bed. Dad could come home any minute now and as I felt pretty sure Mom hadn't told him about these leaflets, I wasn't interested in being the one to explain why she had them. I looked back down at the brochures. Because she had so many of the same kind, I supposed she wouldn't notice if one of two had been taken, so I picked out the two leaflets about being gay and tied the other ones back up into a bunch. I neatly tucked everything away in the box again before pushing it in underneath the bed. I'd hardly gotten back up standing before I heard the front door open.

"I'm home!" Dad called. I hurried out of the bedroom and closed the door quietly. The leaflets were hidden away in the pocket of my jeans. I snatched a random book out of the bookcase as I headed for the door and peeked out into the hallway. Dad was dripping water onto the floor.

"Hey," I greeted, and he looked up as he peeled off his gloves. "Is it raining outside?"

"It's pouring down," he said and blinked at me amused. "You didn't notice? Have you been sleeping?" I waved at him with the book.

"Just reading. I suppose I got caught up." He turned his head a bit as he eyed the title.

"You're studying Jane Austen?" I looked down at the book and felt my cheeks redden.

"Oh…" Dad laughed and messed up my hair.

"You have been sleeping," he just assumed and shook his head. "Did you see Mom?"

"No.." I just said and felt relieved that he didn't assume else but sleep. I smiled at him. "She had left by the time I got home."

"Hmm.." He reached down to untie his shoes, but then he regretted and straightened up again. He gave me a long look. "So it'll just be the two of us tonight?" I shrugged.

"Seems like it." He reached over, grabbed my jacket off of the hanger and threw it at me.

"Let's go to the pub and have fish and chips." I caught my jacket surprised.

"Uh, okay?" He smiled at me. I felt strangely happy.

* * *

"Is there a lot of work these days?" Dad was drowning his chips in salt. I was poking mine around in a bit of ketchup while watching him awkwardly. We hardly ever hung out anymore. When I was younger, he would often try to do things together with me, but not once since we moved had he talked to me while I was on my own. He'd only noticed my existence whenever Mom was around. I'd started to believe he just couldn't care less for me.

"It's great," he said and finally put the salt down before picking up a few chips with his fingers. "If we stay busy like this, we'll be able to go on a vacation this summer."

"Oh? That's nice, I guess." We'd gotten a table in the corner of the pub. Because of the rain a lot of people had come in from the street to dry off and have a beer. The chatting around us was cheerful and the men all seemed to know Dad. He kept waving and nodding at people I'd never seen before.

"Mom has been a bit strange recently," he suddenly said and I looked towards him.

"She has?"

"You haven't noticed?" He picked up his glass of beer. I felt a worry starting to build up in my body. I really hadn't, but I could easily figure out a reason why he would think so. She'd paid me more attention since I discovered the leaflets, so maybe he'd felt a change in her as well. Still I shook my head.

"I think she's as she's always been." I tried to concentrate on my fish. The white meat peeked out at me from between the bread crumbs. I cut off a piece of the fish and ate it slowly.

"It might be work," Dad pondered out aloud. I didn't answer. "She's getting busy as well. At least she's not at home as much."

"Oh?"

"I guess the times are changing." Dad sipped his beer before returning to his chips. We were quiet for a while. Then he laughed: "We're turning the flat into a man's home." I smiled awkwardly at him.

"Yeah."

"We should do this more often." He raised his brows at me as he stuffed his mouth with chips. Then he got busy waving at some friend. I looked down at my plate.

"We should."

* * *

The next day I'd wanted to talk to Scott about Mom and Dad and Jennifer and ask what he thought about it all. I knew he had fewer explanations than I did, but somehow I felt it would calm me down to get a second opinion on it all. He was impossible to get a hold of, though. Oscar had apparently arrived in England on Thursday and he was going to spend the weekend at his place. Scott left early to go pick him up from some bus stop in town and I was left to eat lunch by myself.

"Do come to the slam tonight," he'd told me before he left, "I'll bring Oscar. You guys have to meet!" I'd just smiled and said that I would be there. I knew I would because Daniel would surely be there as well. Though I knew it was selfish of me, I cared more for seeing Daniel again than I did for meeting Oscar.

Because Scott couldn't pick me up that evening I had to get the bus. I bought a return ticket though, which meant I had to leave the slam pretty early to get back home, but I figured a few hours would be enough time for me to get around doing everything I had in mind. Somehow I liked it that way, because I would have an excuse for leaving before things got too heated up. I wasn't sure what an experienced guy like Daniel would expect from me, but somehow I had the feeling that we wouldn't just be jerking each other off every Friday. Whether it was a fact or a hope, though, I wasn't quite sure.

I arrived at the place pretty early hoping to hang out with Matthew and Marco for a bit before the actual slam started, but I'd hardly entered the backyard before a voice reached me. Someone was talking loudly and quickly, and it wasn't in a voice I recognized. As I slowly approached the stairs, I started to make out words like 'swimming' and 'competitions' and 'medals'. Others were chatting as well, but no one could drown out this particular person and I curiously pushed the door and peeked inside to see who it was.

A group of people had gathered in the corner where I would normally sit with Scott. I couldn't see him, but I soon noticed that Matthew and Marco had moved to sit close to the stage. They were looking rather upset. I made my way in between the tables to them as I glanced towards the group of people. The voice was now overwhelmingly loud:

"But that was just in Russia, of course. I appreciate the French more. They're very stuck up, dear, but it's somewhat charming!" I leaned against the backrest of Marco's chair and smiled at Matthew.

"What's up?" Matthew poked at his bottle of soda and looked up at me with a tired smile.

"Oscar's here," he said. I blinked.

"Is that Oscar's voice?" I asked, but before he got around answering me, Scott poked his head up from the crowd and waved at me.

"Arthur!" he called, for a second making the loud voice shut up before it continued. "Come and meet Oscar! Oscar, Arthur's one of my best mates-" He sat back down at the table. I shortly shrugged at Matthew before I moved in between the people at the corner-table until I was right in the middle. Scott was sitting next to a smaller, lean guy with wild, red locks of hair and shining green eyes. His skin was nicely tanned and a tad freckled. He didn't even look at me before Scott patted his shoulder and gestured towards me. "This is Arthur I've been telling you about." I felt slightly flattered that he'd been talking about me and I reached forward my hand.

"Hey," I said cheerfully, and Oscar shook my hand weakly with a crooked smile.

"Hello there," he nodded. He pulled his hand back. "So you're the one who just came out?" I felt a bit taken aback.

"I wouldn't say just-.." I mumbled, but I was cut short:

"The one who chased that Alfred-guy, right?" I glared at Oscar. Scott cleared his throat.

"You were just telling us about that competition in France, right?" Oscar seemed to lighten up at the mentioning of France and he happily nodded.

"Yes! So, as said, this French hotel-…" Oscar started telling the group about some fancy place he'd been sleeping at and how all the French girls adored his medals - which he apparently won in dozens. Scott slipped out of his seat and grabbed my arm as he pulled me back out of the group again. I was giving him a glare.

"You told him about Alfred?" I sneered.

"We were just chatting," Scott said and tried to pat my shoulder, but I moved away from him and crossed my arms. He looked back over his shoulder. "Like I chat to you about Oscar."

"You've never chatted to me about Oscar. You never even told me his name. I had to get it from Daniel."

"Daniel?" I sighed:

"The guy you cheered me on for seeing?"

"Oh, right." I could tell that he wasn't listening. I just shook my head.

"We can talk later," I said and tried to smile though I didn't feel like it. "You haven't seen him for long."

"Thanks." Scott smiled at me, and he didn't hesitate getting back to the table and Oscar. I rolled my eyes and turned to sit down next to Marco.

"Can you believe it?" Matthew asked me and grinned. I shook my head again.

"I wouldn't think such a bragging guy would be Scott's type," Marco said.

"I just can't believe he's been telling Oscar about me."

"Good things?" Matthew asked. I leaned back.

"Apparently Alfred-things."

"Oh…" Both Matthew and Marco raised their brows and looked at each other. I felt almost bad for pulling them into it.

"Sorry to hear that," Matthew said. I tried to shrug it off.

"Never mind."

"How _is_ Alfred these days?" Marco asked though he seemed uninterested.

"I don't know. I don't talk to him. Jennifer stopped me on the bus, though." Matthew offered me his soda and I took a gulp. The sweet taste made me grunt.

"What did she want?" Matthew asked.

"She wanted to know what's been going on between Alfred and me. As if I would tell her." I wasn't sure how much Matthew knew as I'd never fully explained things to him, but I knew he had gotten the general idea. If not from me, then from Alfred. I had a feeling Alfred had told him some things in spite. As sorry as I had been back then about them hating each other, just as happy was I for it now.

"What a thing to ask you," Marco said and shook his head.

"I know, right!" He patted my back.

"Now, forget all about Alfred tonight. And even Oscar if you can overhear him." We both snickered and peeked towards the crowd at the table. "I hear Daniel's coming later." I looked at him. I knew he could tell how excited I was from the look on my face and he merely winked at me.

"Thanks," I said. Then I turned to Matthew as I looked for a new topic to discuss. "So… Are you getting on stage tonight?"

Scott had no time for me and the way he and Oscar hid in the corner all evening to kiss made me wonder why they didn't just stay at home in the first place. They clearly didn't want much company unless people came by to praise Oscar or admire him for being a great swimmer. I was surprised to find that Scott didn't seem the least bothered. Rather he was shining proudly sitting next to Oscar and he would smile at me whenever he caught me looking. It was somewhat pathetic and somewhat cute. I tried to remind myself that they had been apart for a long time and that they would of course want to spend time together. Maybe Oscar was an alright guy when not surrounded by admiring lads. I promised myself that I would try to speak to him later.

As it got later though, Daniel showed up. I wasn't sure if he'd been there the whole time or if he'd just arrived, but I didn't notice him until he came up from behind and placed his hand on my shoulder. I looked up and found him smiling. "Do you have a moment?" he asked. Marco gave me a knowing look.

"He does," Matthew chirped and I hushed at him and got up.

"Where are we going?"

"Just outside." He showed me the two beers he'd already bought and nodded towards the entrance. I shortly looked towards Oscar, but he had his face buried somewhere in Scott's shirt. Then I nodded:

"Alright." I followed Daniel outside to the bench at which we'd first met. We sat down and he opened the bottles and handed me one of them. I accepted it and took a sip.

"What an airhead, hah?" he grinned and puffed my shoulder. I shortly choked on the beer.

"Who?"

"Oscar."

"Oh. Yeah.." I looked at the bottle and smiled a bit.

"He's full of himself. Christ." I couldn't help but to laugh. It was chilly outside, but still I had my jacket zipped open. Daniel wasn't wearing anything on top but a blue vest closed tightly around his shirt. I glanced at it and only then noticed the little bow tie that was hanging around his neck as well.

"Going somewhere?" He looked down and corrected the bow.

"Yeah, I'm not staying here for long. A single beer and then I'm off."

"Anything fancy since you're dressed up?"

"A blind date." I nodded and looked back down at my beer. I couldn't help but to wrinkle my brows disappointed. Still I tried to sound cheerful:

"So you won't have time for me this evening?"

"Depends on how quick you are." We gave each other a short stare. Then we both snickered and looked away.

"The way you put it.." I mumbled.

"Yeah." Then I got busy emptying my bottle. I gulped down the beer as if I was dehydrated. Daniel gave the bottom of the bottle some pushes to make it go faster, but he was laughing all the while. As my bottle was empty, he handed me his own as well, and I just started drinking it without questioning his actions. I figured he liked getting me a bit tipsy and in the mood, or maybe that was just what he normally did when with guys. I knew it wasn't to make me feel special. Then he wouldn't have mentioned his so-called _blind date_. Still I found myself not even bothered. He'd still shown up here just to see me first. That was enough of a flatter to me.

As the second bottle was empty he grabbed it from me without a word and put it on the ground. His fingers shortly touched mine as he did so, and I couldn't help but to feel a thrill go down my spine. I glanced at him and he looked back at me with a bit of a shy smile that almost made me melt. He looked around. "Let's go over there," he said and though I didn't know where he meant, I followed as he took a hold of my wrist, and led me towards a corner of the yard. There was a slight deepening in the wall leading into a door. "It's locked," he said.

"How do you know?"

"Behind it are the toilets we were in," he explained, "it's locked because it's never used."

"Oh…" I wasn't sure why he was telling me all this, but then he suddenly grabbed me by my shoulders and pushed me up against the door. I was about to yell out as it hurt, but his lips smacked to mine and I could feel how caringly he kissed me. I realised he was just trying to hide us away and slowly my arms slipped around his broader waist as I let him step all the way in close to me and kiss me more deeply. I felt excited and confused. After the last time's quick jerk off I hadn't thought him to be one to kiss this slowly and lovingly, but I surely didn't mind. I tipped my head back and parted my lips as his tongue started stroking across them. He didn't dig in immediately. He kissed and licked at the corners of my lips and he sucked at the thin skin by my mouth before he finally let the tip of his tongue follow my teeth. I could taste his warm breath and smell his heavy deodorant. It made my nostrils widen and my heartbeat speed up. His big hands felt up my shoulders and then slipped down my chest and stomach, and soon I felt the cold fingertips on the bare skin of my stomach as his hands slipped up underneath my shirt. I gasped in air loudly and he shushed at me shortly before kissing me with a smile. I didn't know what to do. My arms had dropped to hang by my sides, and I closed my hands into two tight fists as I leaned back up against the door and tried to relax.

Daniel didn't seem to mind that I didn't do much. He pecked my lips, then my cheek and followed it all the way to my ear. As he started sucking on the earlobe, his hands slipped further up and I soon felt his palms crossing my nipples which had hardened in the cold air. I gasped in air again and as he shushed at me, I whimpered slightly. His tongue dug into my ear. "Do you like that?" he asked in a whisper. I nodded hectically and he pinched my nipples.

"It feels… nice," I moaned, slightly embarrassed by how easily I was turned on. He laughed lightly and kissed my ear, and I finally got the courage to reach forward and tug at his belt. It was the first thing my fingers caught a hold of and I simply followed it to the front where the buckle was. He nuzzled his nose to my neck encouragingly and I swallowed before placing my hand flatly on top of the bulge in his jeans. The rough fabric was holding it back a lot, but still I could feel the shape and the warmth from his cock tugged up behind the zipper. I caressed the shape carefully, but as he stepped in closer, I took a stronger hold around it and he moaned delighted.

"Just touch me," he whispered and my gaze flickered up to watch the darkening sky as I reached my hands up to feel the soft skin of his stomach. He leaned back and quickly undid the buttons of his vest, before placing his heavy hand on the back of my head and pushing my face closer. I bumped my nose to his chest and muffled a little laugh before my hands pushed the shirt up more and my lips were suddenly brushing against his warm flesh. My heart skipped a beat. I shyly kissed the naked skin and could taste his salty sweat covering it slightly. Daniel stroked his fingers through my hair and down my back as he smacked my ass and I closed my eyes with a heavy groan and kept pecking whatever skin I could reach. My fingers were stroking all over his chest now, feeling up the lines of his muscles which were making my cock harden. I loved strong men. Big, strong men and I felt it was amazing that I was pleasing someone just like that.

Daniel smacked my ass again. Then he grabbed at it and started massaging my buttcheeks through my jeans. I felt my face redden in embarrassment, but it was only shortly as my head was suddenly pushed at. I was pushed downwards. I looked up at him confused, but as he smiled warmly at me, I slowly bended in my knees as I let my lips slip to his navel. It was deep. I let my tongue dig into the hole and he grunted. I could tell he was getting hairier down here. I'd seen it, but not felt it with my lips. A line of dark hair was running from his belly down his pants and as I licked across them, I felt them tickling my tongue, and making me want to taste more of the odd, warm scent that was emerging from between his legs. Daniel pushed me again. This time it was more forcefully and I dropped to my knees and stared into the bulge I'd just fondled.

"Do you suck?" he asked. I blinked and felt myself getting all warm as I realised what he meant.

"I…" I stammered. He reached down and gently nuzzled my hair. His fingers slipped through my locks and to the back of my head, and he pushed my nose in to rub against the bulge in his pants. All air got caught in my throat and I just stared at what was in front of me with my eyes wide open.

"Come on," he whispered in a beg.

"I… I don't…" I stammered again. He looked over his shoulder and then back down at me.

"Do you just want to jerk off?" he asked. I looked back up at him. I must've looked scared though I was all hard and excited and I nodded a bit.

"Y-yes," I mumbled, "I would prefer that."

"Fine." He didn't even sound disappointed. He tugged at my hair, and I stumbled back onto my feet. Immediately he started unzipping and tugging out his cock. He was looking straight at me with a naughty smile on his face. "Such a tease," he said. I hadn't even realised that he could think I rejected him to tease him even more. "Maybe next time, hah?" I just nodded startled and looked down as he tugged out his cock. In the dark it looked even bigger. It was hard and dripping and he let it stand in the air as he waited for me to do something. I reached over and grabbed at it with both hands. Then I let go and just held it with one as I leaned with my head against his chest. He pecked my head. "Maybe next time," he mumbled. Then I started stroking him. The surprise from seconds before was still keeping my throat blocked and I was gasping for air just as much as Daniel was moaning in pleasure. It was as if he'd forgotten all about me, and I didn't even mind. He was rocking his hips upwards to make my hands work on him more throughout and I was following his small hints, and trying to do my best to please him the way he seemed to like it best.

And then he came.

A strong shudder went through his body and I felt his sperm slip down my hands. I let go of him and leaned back against the door as I looked up at him. He had his eyes closed and he was smiling. I caught myself thinking that he looked beautiful.

"Thanks," he mumbled hoarsely, and I nodded and grinned.

"Yeah.." I could still feel my cock all hard and pulsating between my legs. It was almost hurting me. But Daniel seemed to have forgotten about me.

"Maybe you could suck next time," he said. I swallowed. Then I cockily answered:

"Maybe _you_ could suck next time." He looked at me surprised, but then he nodded. The honest way he was looking at me made my mouth water.

"I could," he admitted. He started buttoning his vest and tugging himself back in. I squeezed my legs tightly together. Though I had the right to tell him to help me get off, I heard myself saying:

"You should hurry on." He smiled at me and nodded. Then he leaned in and shortly pecked my forehead.

"See you next Friday," he said and I knew he meant it.

"See you…" Then he headed off. I watched him until he disappeared out the backyard. Then I turned my back to the place, unzipped and quickly jerked myself into relief. I felt almost exhausted. I leaned against the door with a little smile and shook my head. "What a night…" I mumbled and laughed. Little did I know that the night had just begun.

* * *

After Daniel had left, I felt I could as well leave myself. There was no reason for me to hang around anymore. Matthew had left with Marco, and Scott and Oscar were slowly making their way in between the tables to get a taxi back to Scott's place. I met them by the entrance as I was getting back in.

"Are you leaving already?" I joked though the answer was obvious. Oscar smiled and shook my hand.

"Yeah, I am daring to drive with this bad boy. Will I see you soon?" Scott interrupted before I'd hardly breathed in:

"Of course you will."

"Have fun," I said and saw them head off. I shortly looked around the basement for a known face, but there was none. Then I headed out as well. The memory of Daniel was still fresh in my memory and the nice, tingling feeling in my cock very real as I headed back down the road towards the bus stop by the shops. I should be able to catch the last bus home and the success of everything fitting together made me feel all warm despite the chilly wind blowing in my face.

I watched the sky as I turned around the corner and sat down on the bench at the bus stop. I somewhat couldn't believe just how far I'd made it in such a short time. Though I'd been aware of my sexuality for quite some time now, it was only just recently that I'd started exploring what being gay means and I hadn't even known Daniel for a month, but still it felt like much longer. I zipped up my jacket and slipped my hands into the sleeves as I made myself comfortable with a happy smile. Who cared if Mom was suspecting anything? She didn't exactly seem devastated and as long as she didn't tell Dad anything, I found that I could get through my last year of high school being happy. It was odd just how unreal the thought of being happy seemed to me. Thinking about it, it wasn't even like I was unhappy. I had Scott - or, well, now I shared him with Oscar it seemed - and I did well in school, and Daniel surely didn't seem to mind hanging out with me. It was all good. It just wasn't happiness. But that could come with time. I just wasn't sure what it would take to make me happy.

Then I heard the shouting: "He'll fuck it up, alright?"

It was Friday evening and therefore people shouting wasn't anything spectacular. What made me turn to look was the familiarity to the voice. I leaned forward on the bench to peek from behind the sign. Around the park from a smaller street a group of boys was coming. I immediately recognised Louis. He was wearing a tight leather jacket and what seemed to be leather gloves. I think he was going for the biker-look. From where I was sitting he looked more dorky than sexy. He wasn't the one speaking, though. He was looking over his shoulder at someone I couldn't see in the dark. As they came closer to the light from the street lamps, I leaned even more forward to peek.

"I won't fuck it up!"

"You will." Laughter.

"I just think the redheads are sexier."

"Hey, mind Jennifer!"

"Shut up, asshole." Louis crossed the light, then came Peter, some guy I didn't know (tall and with glasses), Jennifer and last Alfred. He was watching the ground and his hands were tucked away in the pockets of his jeans. Jennifer looked up at him and tugged at his arm, but he merely smiled at her and shrugged her off. They hardly seemed intimate. I found it weird and amusing at the same time.

"Where should we go? To the League?"

"No, they always ask for ID."

"How about that basement- uh, what was it called?"

"No!" Jennifer spoke up this time with laughter and spite in her voice: "That's where the geeks hang out!" She was wearing a smart, short dress and stuff had been put all over her hair. I watched her carefully as she was about to trip in her high heels. They'd clearly been drinking. I could tell from the odd way she was swinging her arms around and the other guys were jogging back and forth. Not drunk. Just tipsy. Alfred looked the least affected, though. He just looked very sad. I watched his face and the glasses that were slipping down his nose. His face was so perfectly squared, his chin a tad broader than what I remembered, his lips fine and his shirt hugging his body at all the wrong places. He'd never been good at buying fitting clothes. It was charming.

"Hey! I knew I smelled something!" I was still watching Alfred and didn't realise that the guys had turned to watch me before Alfred did as well. I saw the surprise in his eyes, but only shortly as I looked towards Louis. His big lips had been crooked into a grimace. He was pointing at me. "Smells like a fag!"

"Smells like shit," Peter said. The third guy I didn't know just looked at Alfred who looked away with a shrug. I could tell he was saying something. His lips moved, but I heard no sound.

"He's probably had someone inside of him. Messing up the system."

"Let's go to League," Alfred said, this time loud enough for me to hear. He was pushing Peter along who followed without complaining, but Louis was stubbornly glaring at me. Then he spat at the ground and gave me a nasty grin. I waved my middle fingers at him. Wrong decision. Looking back I knew that of course I should've known better than to try and make things worse. But I don't think I even thought about what I was doing. All I could think was: Alfred's hanging out with these idiots. Alfred is an idiot. Then Louis started crossing the street.

"What was that, faggot?" he shouted. Alfred reached out for him, but he didn't catch him before he was already too far away. I straightened up, but I kept seated. "Up for anything, hah? Hah?"

"Come on!" Peter yelled at him.

"We're going to League!" Alfred shouted. "Come on, I'll buy you a beer or whatever." He sounded tired. Louis stopped at the pedestrian walk right in front of me and crossed his arms. He was glaring at me. I glared back. "Louis!" Alfred shouted. Then Louis spat at me. The lump of spit landed right on my cheek and started travelling down my face. I sat completely still.

"Faggot," he mouthed. I could smell the alcohol in his breath. I slowly reached up to dry off the spit, but he spat at me again. "Faggot." This time he said it out loud. I got up and pushed him.

"Does it turn you on?" I asked him. He looked confused for a second.

"What?"

"Spitting on me, touching me - am I turning you on, _faggot_?" From the corners of my eyes I saw how Peter started crossing the street. Alfred looked baffled. I could tell he hadn't expected anyone to act like this.

"Guys!" he shouted and he looked like he was about to step forward, but Jennifer grabbed him by the arm again and said something to him. I wanted to hear what, but Louis pushed me and I fell back down to sit at the bench. Peter had made it to his side. He reeked even worse than Louis and he reached down and grabbed me by the hair.

"What the fuck are you doing, hah?"

"Let go!" I shouted and tried to get up, but my hair was pulled at and I whined in pain. I started hammering at his hand. "Let go!"

"Guys!" Alfred shouted again. "Stop it!" Then came the punch. I hadn't expected it, though I'd kept telling myself that it would come down to this. Louis hit me harshly right in the stomach and all air escaped my lungs. I gasped in, but a second hit got me. I was being pulled away from the stop now and back around the corner, and I tried to weakly defend myself, but I couldn't. I had tears in my eyes. I gasped in air. They were shouting things I couldn't understand and a third hit was being aimed at my head, but it never hit me. The hand left my hair and I heard Peter cry out in pain. I stumbled backwards and dropped to sit on the ground, and as I looked up I saw Peter with blood dripping from his lips. Alfred's hand was fisted. There really wasn't any doubt who'd caused him the pain.

"Stop it!" Alfred shouted and finally Peter stepped back. Louis grabbed at Alfred's arm, but he turned around and pushed him off. "What the fuck is the matter with you?"

"Are you gay as well now?" Louis asked. Peter was trying to wipe the blood off of his jaw. He glared at Alfred with anger in his eyes:

"Are you a fucking cocksucker, Al?" I got back up standing, but I was still out of breath. I had a hard time not falling and I had to lean up against the wall of the house next to me. I gasped in air.

"Are you fucking insane?" Alfred asked them, but it sounded more like a statement. I could hear the sound of Jennifer running towards us. Her high heels were making loud noises against the asphalt.

"What happened?" she asked bewildered. I felt like kicking her. Had she gone blind for the last few minutes? Alfred turned around to look at me while Louis was stepping around him to get to Peter. I looked up at Alfred. In his eyes I saw confusion and sadness.

"Are you okay?" he asked me and reached out to touch my face, but I backed away from him.

"I don't need your help," I mumbled and looked down.

"Arthur-"

"Alfred, are you bleeding?" Jennifer grabbed at Alfred's hand and started to look at the blood on his knuckles, but it was all Peter's. I slowly straightened up and took in a deep breath. The tears slipped from my eyes and down my cheeks.

"Fuck," I mumbled and pressed my sleeve to my nose.

"Is he crying?" Peter asked. I saw Alfred stepping towards him and Peter and Louis backing away from him.

"Fuck off."

"Weren't we going to the League?" Louis asked. Alfred had turned his back to him and was looking at me. I tried to turn around so that my back was facing him. I didn't want for him to see me like this. I didn't want for him to see me at all. My body was hurting from the hits and the pulling and the fall, and now I was sobbing, and everything sucked, and why should he try to be all heroic now after all the dumb things I'd already went through? The tears dripped onto the ground and I started whimpering. There was a lump of pain in my chest and it was spreading throughout my body. I was hurt. Emotionally more than physically. I hated Alfred. I really did. But I leaned in towards him as he put his arm around my shoulders.

"It's okay," he whispered and I shook my head.

"It's not."

"I didn't know that-"

"But it is." I pressed my face into his jacket. The fabric rubbed to my face and dried off my tears. "It has been like this for fucking weeks."

"I didn't-"

"You never tried." I was being harsh and I could tell that Alfred was hurting, but I couldn't care. And I just wanted for him to hold me. Still I pulled away and backed back up against the wall as Jennifer came closer.

"Are you coming with us?" she asked Alfred in a whisper. He looked at me and shook his head.

"I think you should go."

"I'll be alright," I lied. In the same moment I saw my bus drive by behind Alfred and my eyes widened. "No!" I shouted. Alfred looked over his shoulder.

"What?"

"That was the last bus!" I smacked my arm back up to cover my eyes. The irony made me want to laugh, but the situation was too painful for that. I sobbed in. "Now I can't get back."

"You can't walk?" Jennifer asked. I shook my head and dropped my arm.

"It's too far." Louis and Peter were waiting by the corner together with the third unknown guy. They were looking back at us while whispering intensely with one another. Alfred cleared his throat.

"I've got money for a cab," he said. Jennifer shook her head.

"That's only one way."

"You really don't have to worry about me," I said weakly. I felt a bit like a kid and it all seemed awkward. Alfred was still looking at me. "I'm sure I can find a way."

"No, we'll get a cab," Alfred said. I recognised the stubbornness in his voice. He had one of his rare moments where he wouldn't accept a no. I knew his way of speaking. I learned to understand it when we were both 11 years old and best friends. He'd used the same tone when he told me we would go into Rome's house as an adventure and when he insisted on us going to buy a porn magazine. And now he was using it again after all these years, because he wanted to take care of me.

"Okay," I whispered and nodded. Jennifer looked between us.

"I'm going with you," she said, but Alfred shook his head again.

"No, you'll stay with the guys." She parted her lips to say something, but Alfred put his arm around my shoulders and nodded at her. "It's best this way." She hesitated. Then she slowly shrugged and turned around.

"Alright… I'll see you tomorrow then, right?"

"Right." She looked at him one last time before she walked back up to the group. They didn't even look back at Alfred. They just went around the corner and left. I was still shaking, but I wasn't crying anymore. Alfred's arm felt heavy and warm around my shoulders. For a while we just stood there looking. Then Alfred shook his head with a sigh.

"Don't tell me it's always like this." I rolled my eyes and wriggled free of his arm.

"As if you didn't know."

"I really just thought it was name-calling!"

"Yeah, because that's super innocent." We stared at each other. Alfred's pupils were shaking a bit. Then he looked down the street.

"I know where there are cabs," he said lowly. I nodded. As he started walking, I just followed him. We said no more.

* * *

Alfred only had enough money for a cab back to his place. I wasn't at all looking forward to getting to Alfred's, but I had no choice. He promised me that I could make a call from his house and get someone to pick me up, but I knew it wasn't going to happen. Dad wouldn't drive to find me this late at night and Mom wasn't one to bother. She would be working early in the morning. Instead I was told I could sleep over. That was all we said on our way back in the cab.

As I was sitting there watching the lights of the town slip past us, I wondered how two best friends could end up sitting in the back of a car not talking as if they were awkward strangers. We'd been close. Most people know very little about one another when they really have to speak up. Maybe they know each other's favourite dish and preferred colour, and maybe they can let you know how many times the other has been drunk and cried over a lost love. But I knew much more about Alfred than those silly things. I knew that he had a scar on his right knee from having fallen down a tree as a child and I knew that he honoured it as a memory, and I knew that he loved the smell of fresh grass in the morning because it reminded him of his old home in America. I knew that he never tried to be rude, but often crossed people's boundaries anyway. And I knew that he was a good guy. No matter how many dumb mistakes he'd made, he was a good guy. I knew that and that made the silence all the harder on me.

It was close to eleven before we made it to his house. His parents had just went to bed, but the front door had not been locked, so we got inside and tip-toed up the stairs to his bedroom. Everything was as I remembered it. Even as he opened the door to his room, I recognised every little piece of furniture and even the postcards hanging on his wall. A few had been added and a poster of a sexy lady on a car had been put up above his bed instead of Superman. But else it all looked the same.

Alfred pulled the curtains and looked back at me. I eyed the floor and he cleared his throat. "Do you want to, eh, borrow something to sleep in?"

"Just some pants," I said and nodded. He went to his closet and started looking through his stuff, and I sat down on the edge of his bed as I pulled off my shirt and wriggled my jeans off. I left them on the floor while I watched him. He'd pulled off his jacket and run his fingers through his hair, making it look quite messy. But he looked cute. He looked so cute it hurt. As he turned around and held up a pair of old sweatpants, I just had to smile.

"Will these do?" I nodded and he threw them at me. I grabbed them and got up as I started putting them on.

"May I use the bathroom?"

"Go ahead." I made my way to the toilet. Looking around the small bathroom I could tell that he'd pretty much taken over the place. I figured his parents had moved to use the bathroom downstairs, because it was all Alfred's things that had been put up. After having peed I couldn't help but to peek inside the cupboard. I saw shaving cream and razors, napkins and a porn magazine. He had a stack of tins with wax for the hair that seemed not to be used much. On one of them Jennifer had left a message. It was a smiley and a little note saying: please use me. I smiled. It seemed he couldn't care less.

I noticed the small bruise as I looked myself in the mirror. It was a blue mark on my stomach from the punch. As I gently slipped my fingertips across it, I recalled the feeling of Daniel's touch just a few hours earlier. He'd wanted me. He'd lusted for me and felt me up, and I wondered if he would've done the same had he seen this bruise when lifting up my shirt. I patted shortly at the patch and closed my eyes as I tried to remember how Peter had cried out in pain as Alfred hit him. Then I went back to the bedroom.

"Sorry I took long," I mumbled as I pushed the door open, but I stopped in the doorway as I saw Alfred with my jeans in his hands. He was holding onto two crumbled leaflets, and the realisation hit me; I was wearing the same jeans I'd had on when I went to check Mom's box. I slowly closed the door behind and Alfred looked towards me. He dropped the jeans to the floor and gently straightened out one of the flyers. He was looking at it and reading the front, I could tell. I cleared my throat. "They're mine."

"Sorry…" Alfred still held on to them as he sat down on the edge of his bed. He turned one of them over and looked at the back of it.

"It's really serious, isn't it?" I bit the inner of my cheek.

"What do you mean?"

"You really are gay." I sighed as annoyance hit me at once and I walked over and ripped the brochures out of his hands.

"Surprise!" I growled sarcastically. Alfred rested his hands in his lap and shyly looked down.

"I know you've told me, but-"

"But what? You thought it was just a phase?" I was almost shouting. Alfred shushed at me which just made me angrier. "What?"

"You don't have to be so defending all the time," he mumbled. I crumbled the leaflets between my hands as I held them close to my chest. I was watching him carefully as he looked down at his feet and wriggled his toes.

"I'm not," I said.

"Okay," he mumbled. I sat down next to him on the bed though with a few inches of distance between us. I looked at the leaflets. Only now did I realise that one of them had a picture of two boys on front. They were both smiling and holding each other close. I felt my heart skip a beat at the sight.

Alfred was scratching his arm and avoiding eye contact, but now he looked at me. "You're _fully_ gay?" he asked. I nodded:

"I am _fully_ , _completely_ , _uncontrollably_ gay." I said each word carefully. He nodded. I waved with the leaflets and then dropped them to the floor. "But these aren't even mine," I sighed. He blinked surprised. I shrugged. "They're my mom's."

"Your mom's? You've told her?" I shook my head with a short laugh.

"No. I have denied it. And denied it."

"Why?"

"If she found out, then… Well, I don't know what would then happen." I looked at him and he smiled a bit.

"Stupid situation?"

"Yeah…" He looked over at the window. The curtains were fluttering a bit. "Did you know…" I hesitated as I wetted my lips. "That, uhm… I think Mom spoke to your mom." Alfred laughed. I found myself surprised at his reaction.

"I know," he mumbled.

"Oh?"

"Mom was the one who told me that, well.." he peeked at me, "it might just be a phase." I parted my lips and took in a short breath.

"For me?" I asked. He shook his head. My eyes widened and I felt out of breath. "For…" I looked down. "Holy-.. You told your.."

"I haven't said anything. Just… I don't know." He shrugged and looked away. My heart was racing and I could feel my palms getting sweatier.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked him in a whisper.

"I'm not a bad guy," he said.

"I know," I whispered.

We sat quiet for a while. I tried to think, but I couldn't make sense of anything. I rested my hands by my sides and felt up the duvet while I shook my head. Alfred's hands dropped to his sides as well. I could tell he was looking at me. Suddenly I felt his rough fingertips tickle at my hand. I took in a deep breath. "I'm not like that," I said.

"Like what?" he mumbled. I closed my eyes. His fingertips kept stroking at my hand. Then his hand closed securely around mine. It was big. I could feel the rough palm cover my whole hand and his fingers digging down between my own. And it felt just perfect. "If this is about Jennifer, then…" He shook his head.

"It's not," I whispered. "It's about all the other things."

"Do they attack you often?"

"Not like this," I mumbled and shook my head, "no, just, bullied. I'm sure you've read the poems in the toilet."

"Yeah…" His fingers shortly twitched and I felt my heart was about to burst. I felt like crying. I didn't know why. But I felt like a mess. I took in a deep breath.

"We should sleep," I whispered. I was so quiet I thought he wouldn't hear me, but he said:

"Yeah," and got up. As his hand left mine, I felt cold.

Alfred made the bed in silence. It was as if we just agreed on sleeping in his bed. I could've slept on the sofa or on a mattress on the floor, but we didn't even discuss it. As if we were best friends again, I slipped in underneath the duvet and lied facing the wall, and he came in behind me with his back facing mine. I took in a few deep breaths and then I looked over my shoulder. As I did that, I found him looking back at me as well. Our gazes shortly met and we snickered before looking down again. His heels bumped to mine and I bumped mine back against his. Then I closed my eyes.

"Goodnight," he whispered.

"Sweet dreams," I whispered back. Then we fell asleep.


	22. 22

I woke up and gazed right into Alfred's blue eyes. I almost shouted out in surprise, but I managed to keep in any sounds and just hug the duvet tightly. He kept staring at me and I stared back at him. Then I sighed.

"Fucking hell, Al…" He smiled softly, but I merely shook my head and sat up and looked around the room. The curtains were still pulled and everything was rather dark. I looked towards the poster of a girl that had been put up by the door. It was crumbled and had been touched a lot, I could tell. She was leaning her long, slim body over the hood of a car while innocently smiling back at the viewer. I almost felt as if she challenged me to tell her that no, she didn't look the least angelic. But I wisely shut up about it.

The duvet was thick and I felt the thin sweat on my legs stick to the sheet. I ripped them free with a nasty sound. I didn't normally get this warm, but I suppose sleeping next to someone heats up the room a lot. As I turned to look at Alfred again, though, he didn't seem the least bothered. He was just resting his head in his hand while watching me. I almost felt embarrassed. His gaze was so intense and naively sincere. I cleared my throat: "What?"

"Nothing," he said and put his hands down to push himself up. He sat up next to me and stared at the same woman I'd just looked at. I gestured towards her and jokingly said:

"What a wonderful piece of art." He laughed at my sarcasm.

"It was in one of my magazines."

"What kind of magazine was that?"

"Well.." His grin widened and I rolled my eyes.

"The kind you hide underneath your bed, I get it." Alfred laughed and stretched his arms above his head. I couldn't help but to notice the curly, bright hair in his armpits. He'd grown a lot since we last shared a bed together. He'd gotten more muscular and thrown away all the chubbier, boyish featured he used to have. When just looking at his body, I felt I wasn't sitting next to the Alfred I used to know. Surely he's always been attractive, but when we were close I didn't notice all the small things about him. Now I could look closely and suddenly tell the difference between the guy I knew and the guy that he'd now turned into. But his smile was the same. He scratched his eyes and laughed a bit more.

"Hey, do you remember how we stole that magazine?" I gave him a glare.

"How could I ever forget?" He laughed deeper as if it was the funniest story ever told. I only managed a weak smile. "I felt like a thief."

"But I paid for it," he reminded me. I nodded.

"You did." Alfred stretched his legs underneath the duvet. As he did it, his left leg slipped alongside mine and the rough hair on his skin tickled my knee. I pulled my leg up closer to my chest and wrapped my arms around them.

"I still have it," he said.

"Oh? Do you jerk off to it?"

"Shut up." He scratched his nose shyly and shortly looked towards the window.

"What's the time?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said and he didn't seem like he cared enough to get up and find out. He looked back at me. "But it's still your magazine as well. If you want to look in it." He said it teasingly, but still I sighed heavily.

"Alfred," I mumbled slowly, "there was only one magazine back then I wanted to look in, but you said it had aids." Alfred's lips stretched out into a fine line on his face and I looked down. "Sorry," I mumbled. I knew I had ruined the mood. Alfred shook his head.

"Sorry," he said as well. He sat up more straight and a few seconds later I felt his fingertips stroke down my leg. I didn't react to it at first but just sat still watching the duvet in front of me. "I say a lot of stupid things," he said, "because I don't know how to react. You know?" I nodded. I hadn't known how to react myself, so how could I expect Alfred to? His fingers slipped from my leg up my side and I shivered because it tickled nicely.

"What're you doing?" I asked him and peeked at him. He was smiling and his fingers closed around my shoulder.

"I really liked you back then," he said, "and I still really like you." I felt my heart starting to speed up its pace. I'm sure my cheeks flustered a bit as I closed my eyes.

"You have an odd way of showing it," I huffed. Then something warm and wet pressed to my shoulder. When I looked down, I saw Alfred's lips leave my skin and then press to my neck. I gasped in surprised and shoved his face away. "Stop it," I hissed. Alfred blinked at me. I could tell that he hadn't expected me to react in this way.

"Do you hate me?" he asked and I shook my head.

"No! But you're not… You didn't expect me to just, well, _bend over_ for you now, did you?"

"I… I don't know?" he said. His voice was painfully honest and I pushed the duvet off of me as I crawled across him to get out of bed. He grabbed me by the arm. "Don't go!"

"I'm not!" I ripped my arm free and looked at him. He glared back at me and I looked down. "I'm just… putting on my clothes."

"Okay." I got out of bed and started to put on what I'd been wearing yesterday. I could tell that Alfred was watching me from the bed meanwhile and I wondered what he was thinking about. I wasn't sure what to think myself. My shoulder still felt wonderfully warm from where he'd kissed it and all the logic in me had been about to be kicked away by my lust for just pulling him on top of me and kiss the hell out of him. But my logic won in the end. Alfred hadn't been there for me for the last few months. How could he expect one night sleeping side by side would make us best friends again?

When I finished dressing, I sat down on his chair by his desk and turned to look at him. He scratched his neck ponderingly. "I don't know what you want for me to do," he said.

"I don't know either," I answered and brushed a bit of dirt off of my pants. It wasn't until now that I realised my body was still a tad sore from yesterday's beating. To my surprise, though, I didn't feel much of it. It scared me a bit. Was I getting used to the abuse? "How could you just… _not care_ for what was happening to me?" I finally asked him. I took in a deep breath and fisted my hands in my lap. "We used to be best friends. If not more." Alfred bit his lower lip and his gaze flickered around the room.

"I didn't know it was this bad," he said.

"How couldn't you!"

"Honestly!" Alfred smacked his hand flat onto the duvet. "Honestly, Arthur! I didn't!" I could hear the pain in his voice, but I could feel it as well. I frowned at him and he sighed annoyed. "Really, you're so stuck up," he mumbled. I gawked.

" _I_ am stuck up?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh!" I crossed my arms. "Oh, here it comes. Tell me how I'm stuck up, Al. Tell me."

"Do you really think you're the only one who's had it hard?"

"No," I quickly answered and Alfred glared at me, "but I think I've had it harder than Mr Popular sitting there."

"Ha-ha," he grimaced.

"Ha-ha yourself," I hissed. Alfred started fiddling with his duvet and I was about to get up as he suddenly started speaking again:

"Why did you have to come out like that?" The question took me by surprise. I wanted to answer right away to show that I was the winner in this argument, but I had no answer. He fisted the duvet between his fingers. "You could've… You could've told me first. Quietly. You never said: hey Alfred, I am gay! You never gave me a chance to… you know… think about it." I felt my mouth go dry.

"You wouldn't have listened," I whispered.

"I would!" he insisted. Then his lips cringed. "Well, okay, maybe not at first, but eventually I would've. But you just had to come out right there in front of everyone. It wasn't fun for me." I could feel my heart beat so hard that it was vibrating up through my throat and making me feel like vomiting.

"Couldn't you just have overlooked that?" I asked. "Couldn't you just have supported me?"

"And what?" he mumbled. "I thought I did. I tried to save your ass."

"By telling everyone that I'm straight?"

"Yeah!" He stared at me with his eyes wide open. "Yeah," he nodded, "it would've saved you for a lot of troubles."

"Do you know what I think?" I asked and he shook his head. "I think you're just angry because I was getting support from Scott."

"Of course I was angry!" Alfred said. I blinked at his honesty and he swung his hands around in despair. "I was fucking angry! Suddenly you had another fag-"

"He's bisexual," I corrected.

"- _fag_ ," Alfred said and watched me huff, "to do stuff with. I'm still angry! He had no right to tell you to come out!"

"He didn't," I insisted. "He just helped me realise-"

"That I am an idiot and shouldn't be told before the whole school?" Alfred pushed the duvet off of him and placed his feet heavy onto the floor. He rested his elbows on his knees and his head between his hand. He was looking at me with sad eyes. "I too thought we were best friends. But best friends tell each other these kind of things." I started to shake a bit. I really had no way of defending myself. I parted my lips.

"It was hard, Al," I whispered and shook my head. "Everything just built up and…"

"And then the poem," he said and rubbed his forehead. He looked like he'd gotten a sudden headache. "Everyone said: Oh, did you know? The _fag_ loves you!"

"As if it mattered," I mumbled and felt my cheeks heat up as I remembered the poem as well. I remembered every single word of it.

"Okay, then imagine that… hell, Jennifer wrote you a poem and someone read it to you. What if Scott went around saying that oh, Jennifer loves you and ah, Jennifer wants you to fuck her." I grimaced.

"It's not the same."

"Fucking right it's not! It's worse!" Alfred let his hand drop. Only now did I notice that his eyes had gotten a bit wet and it hurt my heart. "Because Jennifer doesn't give a fuck about you, but _I do_. I have always… fuck," he wiped his eyes off in his arm and took in a deep breath. I looked away and swallowed. I hadn't even thought of everything in this way and I wasn't sure that I could handle it. I tried to logically make up an argument that would show Alfred that I was the only victim here and that he could just shut up. But I couldn't come up with anything to say to justify this.

"But you just said it was about being popular," I mumbled.

"It's nice," Alfred whispered and looked up. He nodded. "I love being popular. It's good having friends over and always having someone who wants to hang out with you."

"You told me," I said and tried to pick my words carefully, "that you didn't help me because you wanted to stay popular."

"Well, fuck me, I've said a lot of things," he growled and looked down at his feet. "And yeah, I have been bullied. I used to be this chubby, short nothing when I was still in the states." I snorted.

"Chubby?"

"Heh, yeah…" Even Alfred smiled now and I did as well. "Why do you think Dad started punishing me with work-outs?" I laughed as I remembered how he was forced to do all sorts of exercising in his front yard while we were all looking, but then I remembered that we were supposed to be sad and angry and I coughed down a grin.

"True," I said. "But then look at me. I was never popular. I was ever only liked because I was friends with you. And then I found out I was gay and it was just like… As if everything turned against me." Alfred nodded slowly. "You can't just work-out and lose being gay. It's in there forever." Alfred nodded again and sighed and I sighed and again we fell into silence. We looked at each other. Alfred smiled. I couldn't help but to ask: "Do you really still like me?" And he nodded.

"I think I really do."

"In what way?" He shrugged. I looked down.

"I don't know, Arthur. Man, I would tell you if I did, but I don't. It's not all as clear-cut to me as it is to you."

"It wasn't easy," I said, but then I admitted: "But I have known for long."

"I haven't," Alfred said. "When I asked Mom, well hell, she said it was that phase."

"When did you ask her?" I pondered. Alfred smiled shyly.

"I don't remember clearly. I've probably asked a lot of things a lot of times. It just didn't make sense to me. Mom told me it was just a phase and Dad told me to go get a girlfriend. So I did." I snorted.

"Funny advice."

"They were just trying to help me," Alfred said. He then started just staring out into the air. I looked at him patiently as I waited for an answer. "But…" he suddenly added and then looked down, "I don't know if it has helped or not."

"I don't think you're straight," I said, but it was just as much to help my own feelings as his. Alfred smiled a bit.

"Maybe. Jennifer is a nice girl." I nodded and had to sigh:

"She is."

"But I don't know," Alfred added. And that was the most important 'but' I have ever heard anyone speak. He reached out for the clock on his bedside table and held it close to see the time. "It's almost lunchtime. Do you want something to eat?" I nodded and he got up and also grabbed his clothes from yesterday to put on.

"I'll call my parents," I said.

"The phone is in the living room," he said.

"I know. Could you-"

"-put water over for tea?" He smiled and I smiled with a nod. "I know," he said and winked. He left the room while still putting on his shirt. I just sat for a while and listened to him move around stuff in the kitchen. Then I got up and grabbed the leaflets out of the pocket of my pants and put them on his desk.

"You need them more than I do," I mumbled before walking out of the room as well.

* * *

Lunch together with Alfred was quiet. He had some leftovers from a pizza and I had tea and a sandwich. We didn't chat much, we just sat in front of the television and watched silly cartoons until Dad came to pick me up. He was well surprised to find me at Alfred's and I can't really blame him.

"Mom told me you weren't friends anymore," he said as we were on our way home.

"I don't know," I said. He turned the radio on and I thought that it meant our chat was over, but then he suddenly continued:

"Alfred is a good boy. I've always liked him." I rolled my eyes and looked out of the window.

"I know." Then he placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. I looked over at him and he shortly smiled at me before grabbing onto the wheel again with both hands.

"But you've always been my favourite." I just stared at him. I wasn't sure where this sudden kindness came from, but before I got to ask him, he turned the volume on the radio up and I knew that now our chat had finished for sure. Still I felt all warm inside.

* * *

I wanted to hang out with Scott over the weekend to let him know what had been going on, but he was busy with Oscar. I didn't blame him; they haven't seen each other for a long time and they probably had a lot to talk about. Still I felt annoyed when he came to school all lovesick and started to blabber about how amazing his swimming boy was. I probably looked well jealous sitting at lunch Monday afternoon while he swooned, and maybe I was jealous. I couldn't really make sense of what I felt. I should be happy for Scott that he finally had his boyfriend home, but somehow I couldn't. It was as if Oscar turned Scott into a puddle without a mind. He almost didn't eat while telling me about all the competitions Oscar had been to.

"But now he's resting for a month here at home," Scott finally said. I nodded.

"It must be good, having a whole month to fool around in," I smiled, but Scott sighed longingly and poked at his sandwich.

"Somewhat. But I'll miss him when he's gone." I took a sip of my water and scratched my cheek while watching his face go from cheery to sad. He looked out the window and sighed again. "And he's still very busy. There's a lot of friends he wants to go visit now he's back home."

"You can go with him, right?" I asked, but Scott shook his head with a bitter smile.

"I don't know all his friends. And they don't all like me. So I can't."

"Why would he hang around people who don't like you?"

"I don't know. That's Oscar." Scott finally picked up his sandwich and took a bite of it. Meanwhile I peeked to the side as I caught a glimpse of Louis' face. He hadn't seen me and I don't think he was interested in me at all. He was heading straight for the table in the corner where Jennifer and Peter were sitting. Alfred followed shortly afterwards with a bottle of chocolate milk bought at the cafeteria. Jennifer looked up and smiled at said something to him, but when he said something back, I could tell that Louis scowled. I tried to hear what they were saying, but the noises in the room were too great for me to make out any words at all. But an argument was going on. Suddenly Peter got up and left and shortly afterwards Louis did as well. Jennifer looked lost. I turned back to Scott as he started chatting again:

"Do you think I should tell him?" I grabbed at my juice confused.

"Uh, tell him what?"

"Tell Oscar that it's stupid of him to hang out with guys that don't like me."

"How much do they hate you?" I asked and took a sip. Scott looked uncomfortable.

"Well, I know one of them is his old ex, so-"

"Wow."

"Yeah." We both shrugged at the same time and I put my juice back down.

"It can't hurt to let him know. At most he'll be a bit bitter." Scott nodded. I could tell he was taking in every word of mine, so I tried to be reasonable. I didn't want to cause any troubles. "Maybe just tell him that.. Uh.. That you want to spend more time with him?" I felt like an idiot for giving out advice like this, but Scott smiled.

"Yeah. Maybe." He took yet a bite of his sandwich and I looked back at the table in the corner, but now it was empty. I couldn't help but to wonder where Alfred headed off to and what had happened.

* * *

Over the next few days Scott's distress became more and more obvious to me. He'd seemed so cool about it when Oscar wasn't at home - almost as if he didn't have a boyfriend and didn't care for one. But with Oscar around he turned into a whole other person. He became lovesick. Literally lovesick and worried for what he was up to. I think what worried him the most was that Oscar didn't seem to include him in much of what he went around doing. He was one who could easily get attention with his looks and his stories from all over the world. Scott, however, was just the boring appendage that followed with the Oscar-package.

Still he faithfully talked about him in positive terms and kept letting me know that he was probably the silly one, not Oscar. I just nodded. I didn't know how to support Scott well in this kind of situation. It wasn't that I didn't want to, but words failed me. I didn't know Oscar well enough to be mean about him, nor good enough to tell Scott to go be nice. Agreeing was the easy way out, so that's what I did.

I was busy as well. The talk with Alfred had spurred something in me and I couldn't help but to keep an eye on him the whole time. I think he kept an eye on me as well, because even on days where I got off late, I could sometimes still find him strolling around school and _randomly_ bumping into me. I was no idiot; I knew he wasn't just waiting for Jennifer as he would sometimes claim. But I didn't complain.

I wanted to ask him about the guys, but I never got around it. I still saw Alfred hanging out with them, but I could tell that the mood was tense and that neither Alfred nor Jennifer felt very comfortable when with Peter and Louis. I could only suppose that it was because Alfred stood up to me that night. Somehow the bullying stopped for a while as well. I think everyone was reconsidering the situation and choosing sides. They didn't have the time to deal with me when one of their own had now shown himself to be an outsider. Instead they just sent me nasty looks and wrote new poems on the walls in the toilets. It was pretty harmless compared to what I'd gotten used to.

Thursday came along and I'd just left my last class as I bumped into Alfred in the hallway. He was standing by the windows looking outside and I just looked at him before he approached me hesitatingly. "Hey," he said and I smiled a bit.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Not much." He kicked the floor with his heel. He was wearing a green shirt that made him look a bit like a child. I tugged at the sleeve of it.

"Is it new?"

"Yeah, Jennifer got it for me."

"Oh." I let go if it and hugged my jacket closer to my body. We were getting closer to summer and the weather was getting better. Still it always rained. I spotted the wet window behind him and took a step to the side to look out. "Is it raining?"

"No, but it was five minutes ago," Alfred said. I sighed and scratched my neck.

"Man.."

"I was wondering," Alfred said and as I looked at him he glanced away, "if you wanted to… uh… grab a snack somewhere. Or something." I smiled a bit.

"Sure." He seemed well surprised by my answer, but he lit up and put on his jacket.

"Cool!" I put on my jacket as well and we walked outside where it had started dripping again. I allowed for Alfred to show the way as I didn't really know the shops around here. I stuck my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket and looked up at the sky as we walked. It looked pretty dark. Alfred was stealing looks at me. Then he finally gained courage, cleared his throat and asked:

"Are you still angry with me?" I pursed my lips.

"Yeah. Yeah I am," I admitted.

"Oh," he said. I kicked a stone down the road.

"It's just.. I was bullied for long. Hell, I am still being bullied."

"Do they hit you?"

"No…"

"Good…" The rain started to fall harder. Alfred turned around a corner and looked around.

"Where are we heading?" I asked him.

"Uh, depends. What do you feel like?"

"Something cheap," I said with a wry smile. Alfred laughed.

"Okay, how about, uh…" I could tell he hadn't thought it through and I gestured towards the supermarket on the other side of the street.

"We can just get something from there?" I suggested and Alfred nodded. We crossed the street and entered the little place. It wasn't very fancy but at least we would stay dry in here and we strolled to the back where the snacks were. Alfred started peering at the bags with crisps. I looked at the different nuts.

"You know," Alfred said and picked down a random bag before putting it back up, "I've missed us just hanging out. You know, doing random stuff."

"I bet you went snacking with the guys," I said. Alfred grinned.

"Of course, but it's not the same." He took down a bag and I eyed him as he turned it over to watch how much was in it.

"You're supposed to check the fat."

"What?"

"The fat," I repeated and leaned in as I pointed to the little scheme on the bag, "so you know which to pick."

"I pick what I like," he said.

"If I did that, I would be big."

"Nothing wrong with being big," Alfred pointed out. I shrugged.

"Surely not, but I can't afford new clothes."

"Remember that summer Ivan gained two sizes?" I snickered surprised as I was reminded of Ivan. I hadn't thought of him for a long time.

"True. But he loved food."

"He still does," Alfred said. I smiled at him.

"What? How do you know?"

"We're still in touch. Somewhat."

"What? How? Why?" Alfred laughed at my many questions and grabbed two bags of the crisps he was looking at. He gently smacked me with one of them.

"Relax! I still live in the village, remember? I see most people now and then."

"Oh…" I hadn't thought about just how much living close to the old school had to mean to one's friendships. Thinking about it I hadn't seen Kiku either for a long time. I wondered what he was up to. We used to be so close after all. It was as if Alfred had read my thoughts, because he added:

"I sometimes see Kiku. He still asks me about you. I think you should call him sometime." I felt a little warmth spread inside of me.

"Thanks. Maybe I will." Alfred held onto his bags of crisps and I picked out a bag of nuts before we went to look at soft drinks. Alfred was quick to get a coke. I hesitated by the milkshakes. "Have you been hanging out with them?" I asked him.

"A bit. Mostly Ivan, he's pretty cool. We just play games and stuff." I nodded. "Don't you still see Toris?" I almost felt bad thinking about Toris. I didn't. I didn't see anyone I used to see and suddenly I wondered how I had turned into such a loner. Was it really my own fault that all the friendships had fallen apart? I remembered forgetting about a lot of my old mates as I started to dye my hair and hang out with Evan and the rest, but after I stopped being alternative, I pretty much stopped seeing them as well.

"I don't really see anyone other than Scott. And Marco and Matthew, of course." Alfred grimaced as I mentioned his brother's name and I felt like smacking myself. When I only hung out with Matthew, I easily forgot how their relationship was. "Sorry."

"Don't talk to me about him," Alfred said. I sent him a glare.

"Relax, will you? He's a good friend now."

"He's still a bit of a joke," Alfred mumbled.

"Grow up," I said. Alfred just blinked at me, but I grabbed a random bottle of milkshake and headed for the check-out. He followed me and we paid for our stuff before heading back outside. It was still raining, but we sat down on the bench by the bike stands underneath the pent roof. Alfred opened his coke and started drinking it as if it would save his dear life to empty the bottle. I slowly opened my bag of nuts while watching him. He pretty much emptied it in one go.

"Great," he burped and put the bottle into the bin. I raised my brows at him with a grin.

"As charming as ever." He smiled shyly.

"Yeah. Hey, can I have a nut?"

"If I can have some crisps." We placed the open bags between us and started eating while listening to the rain hitting the asphalt. My fingers soon smelled of curry and salt. I licked them clean while watching the sky. Alfred was trying to fit in as many crisps in one go as possible. He almost choked on them as he suddenly wanted to tell me something:

"Hey, remember," he coughed and slammed his own chest. I looked at him with a raised brow. "Um, when we mixed blood?" I automatically held up my thumb.

"You bet."

"I almost wish I had a scar," Alfred said and looked at his own thumb. "Just something to remember it by."

"But you remember well it seems."

"Yeah, but still.." I watched as he grabbed yet a handful of crisps.

"You've become a quick eater."

"Hah! I always was."

"Yeah, but now it's just… massive." Alfred seemed almost proud.

"Well, I work out a lot, so I deserve my snacks."

"Is that what you do at weekends, work out?"

"I've joined a gym downtown. I do stuff with weights now."

"Wow…" I looked down and felt almost silly for not knowing that; no wonder his muscles had gotten bigger! But it was as if I had to discover Alfred all over again. He wasn't a stranger, but still he was strange to me. I didn't know what he did during weekends or how much he hung out with Jennifer or whether he still liked superheroes. I had changed a lot since December, and it would've surprised me had he not as well. I stretched my legs and sighed.

"What do you do?" Alfred asked. "Like, hobbies."

"I've joined a-, well, it's not a club, but a place where we do poetry."

"Oh." Alfred looked dumbfounded. "So you write your own poetry?"

"Yeah." He nodded.

"Cool." I could tell he thought it was boring. It made me smile a bit. At least he hadn't turned into a complete book-geek then while I've been gone and it was somewhat good. He broke a crisp between his hands. "Do you think we can be friends again?" he asked me. I hesitated.

"Maybe," I said. "But I don't know. It depends on so much…"

On one hand I felt like just hugging Alfred and forgetting about all that had happened. But on the other I still wasn't sure. He hung out with the guys who seemed to hate my very existence; but with our talk the other day I knew that he had a lot to battle with as well. And though I hated to admit it, maybe he was right when he said that I hadn't been completely fair to him either. I just wasn't sure.

"Yeah," I said after a while and Alfred looked at me ponderingly. I nodded. "Yeah, I think we can be friends. Not best friends, but friends."

"Hey," he said and pushed the bag of crisps closer, "we'll take it slow, okay?" I looked him in the eyes and smiled as I reached into the bag and grabbed a handful.

"Okay, we'll take it slow."

* * *

"I saw you with Alfred yesterday." I looked up from my sketch and stared at Scott. We were having the last class of the day; art. Scott was wasting his time drawing a woman with nice, big boobs while I was doing my best trying to copy an old photograph of some children playing on the beach.

"What?" Scott's lips twisted into a nasty scowl:

"I said: I saw you with Alfred yesterday. You looked as if you were pretty close." I looked back down at my drawing and added a shadow to the guy's eye.

"We were just talking."

"Is that what you call it? You were sharing food."

"You saw that?" Scott rolled his eyes.

"So you're just going to forgive him like this?" I shrugged and Scott put down his pencil. "He's been a moron so far."

"I like your drawing," I lied.

" _Arthur_ ," he insisted and I put down my pencil as well and crossed my arms. I raised my brows at him.

"What? What do you want for me to say?" Scott leaned in over the table to look me in the eyes.

"I want for you to be realistic."

"I am realistic. We're not even friends."

"It's his fault you got bullied in the first place!"

"It's not!" I shouted and a few of the other students looked our way. I lowered my voice and leaned in closer to Scott as well. I looked him in the eyes. "It's not," I repeated more quietly. "It was wrong of him not to help me out, but he didn't start the bullying."

"He didn't exactly accept you either," Scott hissed. "He doesn't care for your opinion."

"What do you know about that anyway?"

"I am trying to help you to a healthy relationship! It was going so well with Daniel."

"Healthy relationship? Hah! How about you look at your own first?" Scott's eyes widened and I felt taken by surprise myself. Had I just said that out aloud? Scott straightened up.

"Is that what you think?" he mumbled.

"Yes it is," I said. There was no point in turning back now anyway. "Oscar is treating you like a doll. You told me that yourself. That he doesn't care."

"I've been trying to help you all along," Scott said and his voice was steadily getting louder, "and this is all you have to say?"

"If you wanted my opinion, then yes - I think Oscar isn't any good for you!"

"Well I think Alfred isn't any good for you!"

"Then we disagree!"

"Surely!"

"Hey!" We both looked up. Our teacher was standing next to us, her arms akimbo. "Quiet down, I don't want anyone yelling in my classroom."

"Yes miss," Scott mumbled.

"Sorry," I said. She picked up Scott's drawing.

"This isn't what I told you to do," he said and Scott got up.

"No, I can't be bothered," he huffed and walked towards the desk to get a new piece of paper. She looked after him and then down at me.

"Is something wrong with Scott?" she asked and I shook my head.

"He's just having a bad day," I said and took the picture from her hand and put it on the desk with the backside facing upwards, "please excuse him." Scott came back and sat in front of me again, but he didn't start to draw. I didn't feel like drawing either. I felt like a jerk, but at the same time I didn't feel as if I had been treated fairly. We were glaring at each other. Class was dismissed five minutes later.

I got up and put on my jacket before packing away my things. Scott was just throwing everything into his bag carelessly before leaving the classroom. I followed him quickly. I wanted to make sure that we were cool and would see each other later, but before I got to say anything, Scott stopped and I bumped right into his back. As I stepped aside I saw Alfred - the reason why Scott had stopped so abruptly in the hallway.

"Hey," Alfred said fiddling with a book. He was looking at me.

"Hey," I nodded. Scott turned around and hastily walked down the hallway. Alfred looked after him.

"What's with him?"

"We argued a bit," I said and zipped my jacket. Alfred blinked.

"Oh? Anything bad?" I didn't want to tell him. They still had classes together and I didn't want for them to be unfriendly with each other. I knew Scott didn't like Alfred; ever since Alfred insisted that I was straight, he'd pretty much only seen the bad side of him. But I wasn't sure if Alfred knew that Scott hated him this much and if he didn't, he didn't have to be told. I just shrugged.

"It was just something silly about Oscar."

"Who's Oscar?"

"One of Scott's friends," I said. "Why are you here anyway?" Alfred smiled a bit.

"I was thinking we could walk home together," he said. There was a hopefulness to his voice. I looked out the window where the sun was shining.

"I'm not sure I can let you in. I mean… it's been a bit harsh with Mom recently. The gay-situation," I reminded him, but he just nodded.

"It's fine. I know someone close by. I can just go to theirs, no worries." I wasn't sure if I really believed that he knew someone around my neighbourhood, but I didn't turn him down. Instead we left the school together; he pulling his bike by his side and carrying my bag on his handlebars.

It hadn't been that odd to talk to Alfred again and it somehow surprised me. Surely we had to learn to know each other again, but we easily found things to chat about. I was reminded of why we had been good friends; Alfred had a lovely smile and plenty of jokes, and he wasn't afraid to admit whenever I proved him wrong in something. He didn't mind acting as if I was the guy who knew everything which was something I greatly appreciated. I knew I was pretty average when it came to knowledge about the world, but just the fact that Alfred would listen and accept my words as the truth meant a whole lot to me. With Scott it had always been a bit of a struggle, because he read a lot himself and came from a fine, academic family. Alfred just knew whatever had been written on the backside of his many magazines and what his friends told him.

We didn't talk about us. We didn't even mention me being gay or Jennifer being Alfred's girlfriend or why Louis and Peter were avoiding him. We just chatted about sport, the weather, Shakespeare and food. Alfred let me know that he did indeed still read comics, but that he didn't really buy them. He only read whatever he found in the local library. I let him know that I didn't really buy comics anymore either, but that I cherished those I had. I told him about how I still listened to punk music and he said that he loved all those new pop-songs that had come up. We chatted about drinking. Alfred had never been really hammered and he seemed surprised when he found out that I had. I didn't tell him about what had happened with Evan back when I had pretty much blacked out, but I did let him in on the many parties I'd been to. For me it was all in the past, but Alfred almost looked impressed. He'd only recently started to go out in town.

"It's because of my mom," he said and smiled a bit. I laughed.

"Everyone's mom tells you not to drink!"

"I know!" he said, "but really! She's always been very strict."

"I know," I said. "Strict, but very sweet."

"Yeah, you've always liked her. And she's always liked you." I put on a proud face and an honest smile.

"She's a nice lady."

"I don't think she would mind having you around again. She still speaks of you sometimes. She has seen you in town with your dad. At some pub." I tried to think.

"Oh, yeah, he bought us dinner one day."

"She said that you've really grown. I don't know," he gave me a pondering look and then grinned: "You're still shorter than me!"

"Fuck off!" I laughed and pushed his shoulder and he laughed as well. We were getting close to my place. The apartment complex was just to our right. We turned into the car park and Alfred placed his bike up against the wall as he insisted on walking me all the way up to my door. I let him, opened up and kicked off my shoes. He stood outside watching.

"What are you doing later?" he asked me.

"Probably going to that poetry slam. Just to hang out, I haven't got a new poem."

"Oh, do you think you'll have one for next time?"

"Probably," I nodded. "I want to get up on stage again." He smiled a bit.

"I wonder how good you are." I looked him up and down.

"Do you want to come and hear me next Friday?" I suggested. Alfred lit up.

"Really?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Why not? But-," and I gave him a harsh look, "Matthew will be there. Just so you know. I don't want any trouble." Alfred looked a bit uncomfortable, but he nodded.

"Fine, no trouble." He looked into the hallway and then smiled. "Hey, isn't that my old jacket?" I looked behind me. Surely there on the hanger was Alfred's bomber jacket. The one he'd given to me when I moved. I shyly pulled it down.

"Oh, do you want it back?" I asked him and handed it to him. "Since… well, since everything has happened." He pushed his hands to it to push it back to me.

"No, it's fine. Keep it. I said it was for a loved one," he said and gave me an intense look, "and it still is." I felt my cheeks heat up and Alfred's did as well and we both looked down.

"Oh.." I mumbled.

"Yeah… Oh, right, here," Alfred reached into the pocket of his jeans and tugged out the leaflets I had left in his room. I accepted them. "Thanks. They've helped a lot."

"Really?" I said surprised, but with a smile. He nodded.

"I still have a lot of thinking to do, but yeah. They helped." I put them into my own pocket.

"I'm glad."

"Yeah."

"Yeah.." We looked at each other and then snickered like silly schoolgirls. Alfred lifted his hand.

"Well, I'll see you around!"

"See you, Al." He walked down the stairs and disappeared. I closed the door, put up the jacket and walked to my room to hide the leaflets away in one of my drawers. As soon as I'd done so, I hurried to the window to see Alfred outside. He sat up on his bike and did a few circles around on the parking lot before he drove out. I smiled a bit. He really was a lovely guy after all. Now I just had to convince Scott of that.


	23. 23

" _What_ did you tell him?"

Scott's voice was loud. Matthew scratched his neck and looked towards me with his blue eyes opened widely. He nodded towards Scott as if he wanted for me to say something, but I didn't at first. Scott smacked his hand flat down onto the table.

"Are you insane? You are!" Scott continued. "You don't even think about us, do you? How about Matthew?"

"I'll be fine," Matthew assured with a shy smile, but it wasn't the kind of response Scott wanted to hear. I straightened up in my chair.

"This is a public place," I said calmly, though I felt more like sobbing than keeping my voice down. It was quieter than I intended for it to be as I continued: "He's got the right to be here just as much as you do." Scott shook his head in disbelief.

"Too much!" he said and got up. His chair was almost knocked over in his hurry as he walked around the table and pointed at me. "Too much!" he hissed and left. I just glared at his jacket. He'd left it hanging over the backrest of his chair. Though I was still sitting proudly, I felt rotten inside.

"Are you okay?" Matthew asked me.

"I'll agree with Scott; this is stupid," Marco said. I just shook my head and kept watching the jacket.

"I think it's best this way," I said.

Needless to say Scott hadn't been in a good mood after our talk in class earlier that day. He'd seen me head off with Alfred and had asked me about it as soon as I arrived at the basement. I've been a bit late and we'd been standing outside while the first poets went on stage. We were able to hear them dimly as we stood in the rain, talking.

Scott wasn't _impressed_ with me as he'd put it. That it took me only one week to go right back to being weak, vulnerable Arthur-in-love was just too much for him to handle. When I tried explaining to him just how far back our friendship went, he ignored me completely. In spite I asked him if he wasn't just as dumb as me then, hooking up with Oscar who didn't seem to care for him in the least. But I regretted saying it as soon as I saw Scott's face; he knew his own stupidity and he couldn't handle being faced with it. We went quiet for a few minutes after that.

As the poets finished performing we came inside and made our way to the table. Matthew and Marco were waiting for us. Matthew had of course heard about how Alfred knocked down a classmate a week earlier to save me; somehow it seemed Matthew just knew people who knew things. He teasingly asked me about it and Scott reacted strongly as he didn't know I was attacked. One thing lead to another and soon I blabbered about how I invited Alfred to join us next week.

" _What_ did you tell him?" Scott asked in a shout and so the scene above took place.

I pulled my soda closer and took a sip from the bottle. My hands were shaking a bit. I tried to tell myself that I had no reason to be upset, but still I felt my throat being blocked no matter how many times I swallowed the sugary liquid. Matthew got up and walked around the table to sit at my left side. Marco kept an eye on him as he leaned in close to me.

"So are you and Alfred.. You know?" I looked at him and smiled sadly and shrugged.

"I don't know?" I answered honestly. He bit his lower lip and looked at his hands. I almost felt sorry for him. "I would tell you if I knew. I would. But I don't.."

"I didn't know Alfred was like that," Marco said.

"Like what?" Matthew asked and sent him a glare. Marco rolled his eyes.

"Like what do you think?" he asked.

"I don't think he knows himself," I sighed and played around with the bottle between my hands. "But I don't want you worrying about that. When he comes, it's just to have a nice evening. That's all."

"Sounds like a date to me," Marco said. "Well jealous!" Matthew gritted his teeth together and I almost jumped as I felt him kick Marco underneath the table.

"You stop right now!" Matthew yelled. I was taken aback seeing him this angry and I looked between them as Marco suddenly got up and left the club as well. I looked towards the door as he went out and then back at Matthew. He was rubbing his forehead concerned.

"Uh…" I mumbled, "what was that about?" Matthew dropped his hands to the table and leaned back.

"You're not the only one having problems," he said. Had it been anyone else but Matthew who'd said that, I probably would've sneered at them for suggesting I was such a drama queen. But the way he smiled at me sadly and shook his head instead made my heart sink. I felt guilty.

"What's wrong?" I asked and Matthew peeled at his sweater.

"Scott has probably told you about Marco.."

"That he's gay?"

"No, that he likes me," Matthew said. I shrugged as that was the same to me, but then I remembered how even Daniel could be a straight man doing men, and I just nodded.

"Yeah, he's told me that as well."

"He keeps nagging me," Matthew said. He looked towards the stage. It was as if he couldn't look me in the eyes. "He keeps asking me out and chats with me as if I could be… I don't know, _convinced_."

"Convinced into liking men?" I laughed. Matthew nodded, but though he smiled he didn't even choke out a fake snicker. I went quiet.

"I don't know…" he mumbled and peeled even more harshly at the threads keeping his sweater together. "Mom has always said I was girly. I mean, look at Alfred - surely I am more girly than him." I had to nod. He was. "Marco keeps saying I look gay and act gay, and why can't I just be gay? But I can't be gay."

"He's just in love," I tried to reason. Matthew sighed. "For how long has it been going on?"

"Ever since I met him!" Matthew sighed. "I mean, it has always been there. But recently… I think it's because he's heard you're doing well with Alfred now. So he wants me to do well with him. I don't know about Al, but I am not gay."

Listening to Matthew I started feeling guilty. I had been so obsessed with myself that I hadn't even noticed one bit of his frustrations or even considered that he might've been feeling off. As he looked at me he mumbled:

"Don't be mad at me."

"Why should I be mad at you?" I quickly asked. "I am not!"

"It's just…" Matthew shrugged. "Scott has Oscar. And you have Daniel or Alfred or whatever. And Marco likes me. But I… I am not part of that, that-eh…"

"Gay thing?" I suggested in loss of a better word. He nodded.

"I don't feel left out. But I can't fit in either, you know? I'm just worried that if Marco and I end this… well, then whose side are you going to take?"

I was looking him straight in the eyes. His pupils were shaking lightly and I could tell he was afraid of my answer. I grabbed his hand. "We're friends," I said. "Even if Alfred doesn't like it, we're friends and if Marco doesn't like it, we'll still be friends as well. Okay?" Matthew smiled brightly and leaned in to hug me. I accepted his hug warmly.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"And tell me next time if there's anything," I said. He nodded and promised me that he would.

* * *

There were a lot of things I'd wanted to chat with Matthew about, but we couldn't. Shortly after having hugged Scott returned and sat down dripping wet. He reeked of nicotine. Shortly afterwards Marco came in as well. The two of them seemed to sit closely together on purpose for whatever reason, so I kept by Matthew's side and just chatted with him. Still I couldn't help but to glance at Marco. I was still surprised by what I'd heard.

As Daniel made his way through the room and to my side, I felt bad about getting up and leaving Matthew, but he told me not to worry. "I'll go home soon," he said with a kind smile. I nodded and shortly looked at Scott before walking outside with Daniel.

"You all seem to be in a bad mood today?" Daniel said ponderingly as soon as we stepped out into the yard. The asphalt was wet with rain, but it wasn't pouring down from above anymore. I zipped my jacket and nodded.

"It's a bit of a mess."

"Care to tell me?" he asked and gestured towards the bench. I smiled wryly.

"Do you really want to be dragged through that?" Daniel sat down and kept waving at me, so I sat down next to him. The wet wood of the bench stuck to my pants and wetted my ass. I grimaced and tried to sit as close to the edge as possible.

"Is it about Scott?" he asked and shivered lightly in his thin coat. I shook my head. Then I nodded.

"Well, no and somewhat yes," I said and he laughed.

"Which one is it?"

"Do you remember that guy I told you about - the one I wrote the poem about?" Daniel nodded. "I've started seeing him again."

"Wasn't he an asshole?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, "but I think I was as well." I eyed the darkening sky and took in a deep breath. We were getting closer to summer, but still all I felt was the cold gnawing at my bones. I watched a single bird cross the sky while I tried to string together a proper sentence that could easily explain what I meant, felt and thought at once. But it was hard. It was impossible.

"So you're seeing him again? As a couple?" Daniel asked. I shook my head and looked back at him.

"Just as friends right now."

"I thought you were doing all this to become more independent?"

"But I _am_ independent," I moaned. "You sound like Scott now!" Daniel laughed and I rubbed my cheeks with a little smile. "Everyone makes it sound like I am some sort of victim. But I am not. I've made this decision. I want to see Alfred," I said and I felt my voice being suddenly powerful. I almost surprised myself. Daniel scratched the back of his head.

"But isn't that being weak again?" he asked.

"No," I said and this time I felt very secure of myself. "I don't think so. Since you ask, well…" I took in a deep breath and licked my lips. I wanted to say so much, but I couldn't find the right words. It was as if a puzzle suddenly came together in my head. It was all very logical to me, just not to the rest of the world. "I… have made my own choice seeing him. It's something I want to do and we do it at my terms. Stubbornly denying that I don't like him isn't going to do any good for me either. Maybe it's weak of me to, well, to just try all over again. But I don't really think so. No…" I shook my head. I could tell Daniel was listening and not about to interrupt me, so I wanted to make sure that at least one person besides me would find my decisions right.

I turned to Daniel and smiled: "I like him. I actually _really_ like him." Daniel looked me up and down. Then he laughed.

"It seems like it." I felt my cheeks redden and I looked down shyly. I almost couldn't believe I just said that to him, but I was feeling happy and excited from it. "Does he like you?"

"Who knows?" I said. "He doesn't even know if he's straight or not."

"Heh, yeah, words matter a lot, don't they?" I looked at him curiously.

"What do you mean?"

"When I tell people that I'm straight, but don't mind being with a guy, they always try to reason that I am bisexual," Daniel explained and rolled his eyes. "As if I can't even choose myself. I don't really think it matters so much to use the right label for things. As long as they work for you, you know?" I nodded.

"Maybe. But realising I am gay, well.. It helped me when I had a word for it."

"That's nice," Daniel said. "But don't expect the same from everyone."

"You mean Alfred?" He just smiled at me and I grinned: "Yeah, yeah, just be secretive!"

"Does this mean we can't move on?" he asked. I blinked.

"Uh? With what?" Daniel openly grabbed himself between his legs and I shook my head flustered.

"Not really," I said. "I mean… I don't feel it would be right."

"Did you enjoy it?" he asked. I looked at him and said:

"Of course I did. I don't regret a thing."

"Good!" Daniel got up and clapped his hands together. "As long as I didn't scare you off, I am fine. It's just too bad, really. I would've liked to go further." I grinned up at him.

"Oh, how _discreet_ you are."

"Indeed," he smiled. I got up as well and he leaned in and pecked my cheek. "Well, there's not much of a reason for me to hang out here then. But I'll see you around." I stuck my tongue out at him as he headed for the basement.

"Yeah, go find a prey," I joked and he showed me his thumb up. I laughed and stood back as he disappeared downstairs.

That was the end of my flirt with Daniel.

* * *

I decided to be a good friend and spent most of the weekend together with Matthew. It had been long since we just hung out. We sat in my room all of Saturday and watched movies and talked about people we knew. Mom was happy about having someone over again, so she kept serving us biscuits and offering Matthew tea. At least he would drink it compared to Alfred.

"You remind me so much of someone.." she said over and over again. She couldn't make the connection to Alfred and we didn't tell her, but she smiled happily and kept saying what a nice boy Matthew was.

I told him how I'd ended it with Daniel and he didn't seem the least surprised. "Daniel isn't a moron, but he likes to play around," he explained. "Don't be surprised if he's onto a new guy next time you see him." I don't know if that should've worried me, but it didn't. A flirt was all it had been and it was nice, but now it was better to put it behind me and just look after Alfred. "And don't feel bad," Matthew added, "about it all. Since I am sure Al has been playing around as well."

Honestly, I doubted it. But I just nodded.

Monday at school Scott seemed a bit off. I wasn't sure if he wanted to talk with me or not, so I just stayed in the background. He would send me looks during class, but when I didn't say a word, he didn't either. I wasn't angry with him, but I was also tired of always being the one to straighten things out. Today I would let people come to me.

Apparently Alfred got the vibe. At least he caught up with me at lunch as I was heading for the library. I was surprised to find him so openly following me and chatting with me as he did, but it made me happy.

"Where are you going?" he asked. "I thought you were having lunch." I noticed he was wearing a new, smart t-shirt with a band-name on it. I didn't know the band, but I liked the colour. Blue.

"I'm not really hungry," I explained. "I just want to sit and read a bit."

"Oh." He looked like he'd never heard of anyone spending time outside of classes studying. But he kept walking by my side. "What are you doing later?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Probably studying. Exams are coming up. In English we're taking tests to see if our knowledge is up to date. I don't want to fail any of them."

"A good student as always," he grinned. I nodded.

"Aren't you?" He didn't answer me, but he kept smiling as he looked out the windows we were passing by. I started making my way up the stairs and he followed me with light jumps.

"Have you written that poem?" he asked me.

"For the slam? Not yet."

"Write one about me!" he joked. I rolled my eyes.

"Remember last time I did that?"

"Oh…" Alfred grimaced as I looked over my shoulder back at him. "Don't ruin the mood. I thought we were past this.."

"Sorry.." I mumbled. I was proud of the poem I wrote about Alfred, but I knew it wasn't fair to spread it to the school. Still I hadn't exactly planned on having anyone else see it. It had just happened because Alfred's mates were idiots. I turned to him: "Where is Louis? And Peter?" He looked confused.

"Why?"

"You normally hang out with them, don't you?" He shrugged. "Have there been problems?"

"A bit. You know, saving the gay boy doesn't help my reputation." I huffed and he smiled: "Don't be mad. You know how it is. Being gay isn't popular, man. I can't just change that."

"I know," I said, "but I also know that you know my name. Don't call me _the gay boy_."

"Sorry." I walked a bit quicker, but he grabbed me by the arm. "Hey, really, I'm sorry," he said. I turned around and he let go of my arm. I was at the top of the stairs and he stood two steps below me. Alfred shook his head. "I don't know why I said that. It's just odd, you know? It's like I have two worlds. One where you are gay and another where you aren't, you know?"

"No," I said and shook my head. "I don't know." Alfred was about to speak again, but I interrupted him: "I don't have a world where I am gay and one where I'm not. But I have friends who accept it and others who don't. And I just have to deal with that."

"I accept it," Alfred said.

"It took you some time." He sighed. Two girls passed us on the stairs. They were walking down. They shortly looked at me and Alfred, snickered and then hurried down. I leaned against the banister and shook my head. "I don't want to be mean," I mumbled. "Else I wouldn't have invited you to come with me on Friday."

"Yeah, but you don't make it easy on me either," Alfred said. "I can't change what happened, man. I can't. It's still odd for me, all of this. It was easier back in the village." I nodded.

"It was. But we're not really kids anymore," I said and kicked the wall before turning and continuing to walk down the hallway. Alfred didn't follow me. I heard him walk back down the stairs after a while and I stopped by one of the windows and looked out. In the yard someone was playing football. I was reminded of all the times I'd seen Alfred play football. Sport was something that made men bond. It was probably why they could accept Scott. But being fully gay and weak I couldn't be part of any of their bonding.

I pondered if it was really their fault as well as Alfred's, or if it really all came back to me. I never socialised with others. I only kept to those who accepted the whole of me. Idealistically that is how it should be, but I wasn't sure if it could really work in the real world.

I wanted for Alfred to accept me, but I wasn't sure I had fully accepted him yet. It was somewhat crazy and I wasn't sure how to deal with it.

* * *

"I say we dump him."

I poked my head out of the stream of water and tried to listen to the mumbling of voices coming from the locker room. I'd waited for everyone else to be done with showering before I went in myself. Standing all alone in the wet room made me feel safer than having to wash myself around the bigger bodies of my classmates. Last time I did so, they kept making the 'don't drop the soap!'-joke over and over again, making it nastier every time. But now it seemed like they didn't even notice I was there.

"We can't dump him," someone broke in. I wasn't sure which voices belonged to whom. As the water stopped, I started soaping up my body as I listened on.

"Of course we can! He hit me!"

"I don't know what's up. I really don't."

"Man, if I knew… Hey, you know that party Sean is having? He doesn't want him either. He says he uses the backdoor."

"Don't make it sound nice; he fucks asses."

"He's with Jennifer."

"Maybe he fucks her ass as well."

"Hah, yeah, but I don't think they ever had sex."

I turned the water on again to wash off my soap, but now I had no doubt who they were talking about.

PE had been easy for me. No one had paid me any attention. Even the coach seemed rather uninterested. I was sitting on the bench watching as everyone else practiced rugby. But I could feel something was up. It just didn't involve me. Now their focus had fully moved to Alfred.

"I still want to dump him. I don't want him at home. Not if he starts touching me."

"Fuck off! You know Al! He wouldn't!"

"Yeah, man, do you really think you're _that_ attractive? Not even a girl would touch you!"

"Very funny! Well, if you want to risk anything, go ahead! I'm not."

"He's not a fag."

"He talks a lot with gay boy these days."

"They were friends since… uh, years ago."

"I remember him saying that. But really - a gay friend?"

"If he touches me, I'll break his cock."

"Oh, shut up already!"

I grabbed my towel from the hanger and dried myself off the best I could. The discussion continued, but as soon as I stepped out to the bench, they quieted down. They gave me a long look before turning their backs to me. I started getting dressed.

"Okay, but I am still going," a guy finally said. Louis shook his head and mumbled:

"You're nuts. I'm not. Peter?"

"I'm not either," Peter said.

"Well, I am going as well," another guy said. I could clearly feel the disagreement between them. Wherever they were going with Alfred, they were now finally splitting up and taking sides. I wasn't sure if it would benefit me or not, but not even as I zipped my jacket and tied my shoes did they throw a nasty comment at me. Only as I left for the door, Louis shouted:

"I've fucked your mom, gay boy!" As I turned and looked at him, someone shoved him into the wall. They started yelling at each other and I hurriedly left.

* * *

The following Thursday Scott finally gained enough courage to sit down at lunch to speak with me. He'd been lurking by the door for a while before he finally went over and sat down across of me at the table. I smiled at him friendly.

"Hey."

"Hey there," he greeted and winked at me. Now I knew him again. "How're you?" I shrugged:

"Fine. And you?"

"I don't know.." he admitted. He unwrapped a cheese sandwich and started taking bites of it. I'd already finished my lunch and was just sipping water for the time being.

"If it's about what happened last Friday, it's okay," I said. "I tried to give you all a fair warning…"

"I know," Scott said and swallowed.

"I am trying to work it out with Alfred," I continued, "and he's trying his best as well. I want to let him see what I do nowadays. I already told him to behave." Scott smiled a bit.

"Like a kid, hah?" I had to chuckle.

"Somewhat. But he promised to be nice. So you better be nice as well." Scott sighed and nodded.

"I will. I'm just trying to look out for you."

"You have for long," I said, "and I'm glad. Really. I probably wouldn't have come out had it not been for you, but… I can handle my own sex life."

"Sex life?" Scott repeated and I smacked myself.

"Relationships, I mean!"

"… _sure_." We both laughed, but then Scott's smile fell and he looked down at his half-eaten sandwich. I narrowed my eyes.

"What?"

"I wish I could handle things as well," he mumbled.

"Is it Oscar?" I asked, but I knew it was even before he nodded. I just had a feeling.

"It seems we argue all the time. I just… fuck, I get tired of it." He picked his sandwich back up and started gnawing on it. I rested my head between my hands as I watched him.

"Have you told him?"

"Not really…"

"You should."

"Yeah…" We didn't really know what to say to each other. I cleared my throat.

"Have you thought… that maybe you need to see someone else?" Scott choked on his food.

"I don't fuck around!" he almost shouted.

"No!" I yelled back and shook my head embarrassed. "No," I repeated more quietly, "I mean, friends. From football maybe. Like he sees his mates." Scott seemed embarrassed as well. He smiled a bit.

"That could be."

I was about to say something else, but I forgot all about it as someone was walking up to me. From the corners of my eyes I couldn't tell who it was. Not until she was standing right next to me, hands fisted by her sides. I looked up. "Hey Jennifer," I greeted. She wasn't smiling.

"I've done _so much_ for you!" she huffed loudly. I could tell a few girls were following our conversation.

"Uh…?" I mumbled puzzled.

"I was honestly happy to see you working things out! Alfred was happy as well!"

"Alfred?" I repeated. That was apparently too much for her. Suddenly she landed a harsh slap on my cheek. It echoed through the room and a few more turned to see what was going on. A guy was laughing hysterically somewhere in the room. I was just staring at her surprised as I raised my hand to my cheek. It hurt.

"Don't play dumb!" she shouted. She had tears in her eyes now and they travelled down her cheeks. "I have been so nice!"

"What has happened?" I asked her. I almost felt like sobbing from confusion.

"He broke up with me!" she sobbed. I blinked.

"What?"

"I know you told him to! You probably did! If you like him, then that's fine, but don't ruin it for the rest of us!" she said and hid her face behind her hands. I got up and tried to comfort her, but she stepped away. "Maybe it's like everyone said," she mumbled behind her hands. "You're really no good." Then she turned around and quickly left the room. Two girls jumped up from their chairs and followed. I turned to look at Scott. He started laughing.

"Wow!" he said and grinned: "You are a real charmer!"

"He broke up with her?" I said questioning.

"Cool trick!" someone yelled at me. I looked through the room towards a table. Some boys from my English class were waving at me while smiling. "I didn't know you had your way with the ladies as well!" the same guy yelled. I just waved back at them slowly while sitting down. I honestly had no idea how to react.

"Did you tell him to break up?" Scott asked. I shook my head.

"I surely didn't!" I looked down at my bottle of water.

"Do you think… he's done it to start with you?" Scott asked. I shrugged. I really didn't know. I knew even less whether to be happy or upset about it all. Scott reached in and poked my cheek. I flinched:

"Ouch!"

"You're all red," he informed me with a grin. I rubbed my cheek and sighed.

* * *

I didn't see Alfred in school neither Thursday nor Friday, but as he turned up outside my door Friday evening, I pushed him first thing. He stared at me confused. "What was that for?" he asked.

"Why did you break up with Jennifer?" I asked him angry. I stepped out into the hall and closed the front door behind. I'd been waiting for him with my boots on and my jacket zipped. Even Dad had been able to tell I was angry and he hadn't questioned me at all. Alfred, however, had a lot of questions:

"What? Me? I didn't! Did I?" he stuttered. I narrowed my eyes. "Okay! Yeah, I broke up with her."

"Why?" I asked. Alfred rolled his eyes and started walking down the stairs.

"Why do you think?" he asked me and I felt flattered and annoyed at the same time.

"Did you tell her it was my idea?" I asked.

"No, but I said it was because of you."

"Why!"

"It is!"

"But you didn't have to tell her that!" I whined. We made it to the bottom of the stairs and walked outside. We were going to catch the bus to the basement that evening. We crossed the parking lot together. "She thinks I told you to end it now. I didn't! I had no idea before she slapped it into me." Alfred snickered and looked up at the sky.

"Yeah, I heard she slapped you."

"And you think it's funny?" He shrugged. "What exactly did you tell her?" He sighed. He'd clearly not expected to be confronted with any of this. Still he luckily decided to answer me:

"I just said… well, I said that I wasn't really into her anymore. And she started crying and asked why, and I said I was hanging out with you now. And she asked if that was why I didn't want her and-"

"-and you said it was?" I finished his sentence bitterly. He nodded. "You really are an idiot."

"I am trying to be honest," he said and gave me an annoyed look. "When I am not honest, it's bad. Then now I am honest, it's bad as well."

"You need to find a balance," I said.

"I can't."

"Well, you have to."

"I can't!" He grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me to face him. His blue eyes were wide open and honest. "I don't know how to, Arthur! I'm… I'm confused, but I am being honest; it's because of you. I really, really like you and I never stopped liking you in all this time. All this playing around… it makes me crazy!" I felt my cheeks heat up. He kept looking right into my eyes. "You mean so fucking much to me, okay?" I nodded automatically. "I know I am a dork. I can't really figure out how to do that entire thing with feelings right. But I really like you." I didn't know what to say. As I tried to speak, nothing came out. Maybe I wanted to just kiss him right there most of all, but I didn't. He let go of me and we kept walking to the bus stop.

"I…" I mumbled and then hid my lips in my scarf. He looked at me.

"Yes?"

"I really like you as well. Okay?" He smiled. I can't remember when he'd last smiled so warmly at me. He reached out and his fingers closed around mine and we just held onto each other by three fingers. His were cold. Mine were warm. I shortly closed my eyes and imagined giving him all my warmth. I was so happy. I really was.

"We'll take it slow," he said again, but I didn't really recognise his words. My heart was beating so lively in my chest that whatever speed we would take it at didn't really matter. The fact that I was holding his hand did. I couldn't even feel sorry for Jennifer in that moment.

We sat down at the bench by the bus stop and had a hard time pulling our hands back. As someone passed by on the opposite street, though, Alfred pulled his hand back to his lap and I did as well. I watched the two men walk. They looked close and it almost amused me, and I poked my elbow to Alfred's side.

"Lovebirds," I said and he laughed. That made the smallest of them look towards us. I looked him straight in the eyes and felt my heart sink. It was Oscar. I had no doubt. I could recognise his face clearly, but the man whose hand he was holding wasn't Scott.

I don't think Oscar recognised me. He just held tighter onto the man he was walking side by side with and they soon disappeared around a corner. I gawked. Alfred looked at me.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

"That was Oscar," I whispered.

"What?" He looked towards the couple, but they had already disappeared. "Scott's boyfriend? But that wasn't Scott?"

"Holy…" I took in a deep breath and felt my stomach working itself up. I almost felt sick. "They've been having troubles recently, but I didn't know that Oscar would… with someone else…"

"You can't be sure," Alfred said to calm me down. But I was sure. Why else was he holding his hand so lovingly? I'd just experienced how much holding hands could mean. It's not just something you do without thinking about it. I couldn't imagine Louis and Peter suddenly holding hands and being happy about it. I shuddered.

"Shit," I mumbled.

"Should we tell Scott?" Alfred asked. I shook my head.

"I'll tell him. But not tonight. I want tonight to be peaceful," I said. I gave Alfred a long look. "Okay?"

"Okay," he said and shrugged uninterested. He seemed to already have forgotten about it all by the time the bus arrived. But I hadn't. I felt honestly sick and all I could think about was poor Scott who was so in love. Poor, good Scott.

* * *

Sitting at the table proved to be well awkward. We normally only had four chairs, but now we had to fit in a fifth for Alfred. I didn't want for him to sit next to Scott and putting him next to Matthew would just be heartless. Instead I made sure that he got the seat between Marco and me.

To my surprise Marco chatted rather happily with Alfred. They seemed to connect right away. They knew some of the same bands and movies, and Matthew just sat there quietly looking at them. Alfred said a few words to him to please me and Matthew answered with a smile, but that was the only chat they had. Meanwhile Scott looked depressed. I couldn't make myself talk with him, though. Every time I looked at him, I felt sick knowing what I knew and not telling him. I knew I was being selfish for postponing it just to have a nice evening with Alfred, but I tried to reason with myself; if I said anything, it would be unpleasant for everyone. No one would enjoy this evening. I would meet with Scott the very next day and let him know. That was my plan. But it got screwed up.

I went on stage as one of the first performers of the night. I only had a small poem I'd managed to put together the evening before. I almost felt bad that this was the first Alfred would hear from me, but he smiled and clapped as if I was a sensation. As I returned to the table, he looked at me happily.

"That was really good!" he said.

"Did you understand any of the references?" I asked him amused. He looked puzzled. "To Shakespeare."

"Oh, sure!" he said. It was somewhat cute, so I didn't question him further. Instead we just sat closely watching the performers of the evening.

I tried to look out for Daniel and as the show ended, I saw him heading outside with a nice, pretty boy. It almost made me smile. On it again. Scott saw it as well and finally spoke up for the first time that evening:

"What a dickhead." We all turned to look at him.

"Who?" Matthew asked.

"Daniel," he said. "From one to another. Dickhead."

"You knew he was like that," Matthew said. Scott looked straight at me.

"Did you?" Scott asked me. Alfred looked well confused.

"Who's Daniel?" he asked. Marco quickly answered to have Scott shutting up:

"Just a guy who flirts with everyone."

"Hah," Alfred grinned, "he sounds charming."

"He's flirted with Arthur as well," Scott said. Alfred blinked and his grin stiffened a bit.

"I turned him down," I mumbled. It wasn't a lie, because I did turn him down a week ago. That we jerked off before that - well… Alfred didn't have to know that!

We were all sipping sodas. Without Daniel's ID neither of us could get our hands on beer and since I would probably be the only one drinking them anyway, it didn't matter. Alfred was emptying his third coke of the evening as Marco grinned at him:

"So, Al, I hear you're into football?"

"Oh yeah!" he said and seemed happy he could talk about his interests. "I play soccer at the school, though. They don't have a football-team. But it's all cool."

"I bet you get a lot of girls following you around?" he asked curiously and Alfred grinned knowingly.

"Well, it happens." I could tell he was happy to let someone know that he was popular. I couldn't blame him; if I felt on top of the world, I probably would've bragged a bit as well. But Scott didn't seem the least impressed. Instead he crossed his arms and frowned.

"Be nice," Scott said. Alfred blinked.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Arthur's sitting right there," Scott replied and gestured towards me.

"It's nothing," I said, but Alfred leaned in closer to Scott.

"I said they follow me, not that I fuck them."

"I bet you would like to," Scott continued spitefully. Alfred narrowed his eyes and Marco leaned a bit back to get out of the way. Matthew looked at me worried.

"Stop it," I begged. "It's just girls. They have to cheer."

"What's your problem, anyway?" Alfred asked Scott. "We were friends, weren't we? What went wrong?"

"What's wrong with your brain?" Scott growled back at him. "You couldn't even handle a gay friend."

"I have a name," I said.

"I could!" Alfred said. They were both clearly ignoring me now. "But you just had to push him into confessing in front of everyone."

"Oh!" Scott chirped: "So it's _my_ fault now?"

"Yeah!" Alfred said. "I actually think it is." Scott got up. Alfred did as well. They started slamming fists into the table, both wanting to be louder than the other.

"You're the one who hasn't given a fuck about Arthur and now you suddenly want to be part of the group!"

"You're the one who kept pushing me away when I _tried_ to give a fuck!"

"You could've done so earlier! You're so damn bad at relationships, aren't you? Couldn't even keep Jennifer!" Scott said and smiled. I felt my heart race. As I looked up at Alfred, he was smiling as well, and I suddenly realised why. I shook my head and grabbed him by the shirt as I got up as well.

"No, Alfred," I whispered.

"So _I_ can't keep a relationship?" Alfred asked.

"You can't even keep your cock inside your pants!" Scott shouted.

"Maybe you should try pulling yours out sometimes! Then Oscar wouldn't have to walk the street with someone else!" I slapped my forehead and groaned. Scott blinked.

"What the fuck do you mean by that?" he asked.

"Nothing!" I assured, but of course that only made Scott more determined to know.

"What do you know? Tell me! Have you seen Oscar?" he asked. Alfred crossed his arms. Scott pointed to him. "You're a liar!"

"Seems like you're the one lying to yourself!" Alfred said. Marco had moved to Matthew's side. They were moving away from the argument. Still I tried to pull Alfred with me.

"This leads nowhere!" I said.

"And you lie about being gay, how fun!" Scott shouted. I could tell that did it for Alfred.

"Yeah, and you can't even be properly gay!"

"Hah, sorry I can't be like everyone else and fuck Daniel!" I felt my face go white. Scott looked like he regretted his words immediately. "I didn't…" he mumbled.

"Seems like everyone is getting something then," Alfred sneered. He then shouted: "Most of all Oscar!" Then Scott threw himself at him. I managed to step out of the way as Alfred was slammed to the floor. People started getting up and moved away as they rolled around between the tables. Scott had the upper hand at first and was throwing his fists down at Alfred's face, but he got them rolled over and punched Scott right on the nose. I could see blood.

"That's enough!" The man from the bar stepped over and ripped Alfred off of Scott. He was older and bigger and it wasn't that much of a challenge for him. Scott stumbled up standing. He looked at me. The blood was still running from his nose.

"Is it true?" he asked me. "Oscar…" I parted my lips:

"I didn't know when to tell you…" I whispered. Scott took in a deep breath and then pushed me out of the way as he went for the exit.

"One hell of a friend you are!" I heard him shouting. Then he was out. The bartender turned to Alfred as well as he let go of him.

"You have to leave now," he said.

"I'll go with you," I mumbled. Alfred's right eye had already started to go blue and his lip had cracked, but he looked rather satisfied. Matthew and Marco stayed in the basement as we left.

It was awkward walking towards the bus stop. I wasn't sure who I was the angriest at; Scott for starting the argument and the fight, or Alfred for provoking him with Oscar. Still I tried to wipe the blood off of his lip.

"You're an idiot," I said honestly and he nodded.

"I am. But I got angry," he admitted.

"Why can't you just calm down?"

"Because he said that thing with being gay," Alfred said. "I just… couldn't handle it." I sighed.

"It puts me in a bad position, you know."

"I know," Alfred mumbled shamefully. I actually felt bad for him then. With a headshake I looked up at the sky. "What did he mean by… everyone fucking Daniel?" he then asked. I felt my throat knot up.

"Uhm…"

"He flirted with you?"

"Yeah, we did…"

" _You_ did?"

"Alfred, you have one girlfriend after another," I sighed and looked at him. "Does it surprise you I might want a bit… attention as well?" Alfred bit his lower lip and looked down at the ground saddened. We didn't say more until we were sitting at the bus stop.

"I know I've had girlfriends," Alfred said and poked the ground with the toe of his shoes. "But they never really meant anything… like you meant something." I felt warm inside and looked down.

"I know…"

"You do?" he said surprised.

"I think I do.. I think I knew, I just… Well, I felt it wasn't fair anyway." Alfred nodded and sighed.

"It probably wasn't."

"Did you ever do anything? You and the girls…" Alfred hesitated.

"We kissed," he then said. I looked at him.

"Yeah?" He started blushing a bit,

"Uhm, well, you know.. Things.."

"What things?"

"Touching."

"Naked?"

"Of course not!" I raised my brows at him and he started stuttering: "I mean… I… they wanted to and I tried but… Fuck, Arthur, I told you. It's not like us. I can't get hard."

It might sound odd, but that was the best thing he'd ever told me. It was even better than if he shouted 'I love you!' and meant it. I reached over and squeezed his hand lovingly.

"Thanks for letting me know," I whispered and looked at him. He smiled back at me.

"Yea…"

"You look like such a badass," I said. He looked confused and I explained: "With the black eye and all." He then laughed.

"Does it turn you on?"

"I am not really into bastards."

"Hmm, then we won't fit together."

"Well, I _do_ like dorks."

"Oh?" We smiled at each other and Alfred reached in and gently stroked my cheek. He grinned: "If it wasn't because you would throw a fist, I would kiss you right now!" I felt my heart skip a beat and before I knew of it, I mumbled:

"Then kiss me." He stared at me and I stared back at him. We'd kissed each other many times before, we'd done many things, but it had never meant as much as it did right at that time. I turned to face him more fully and he turned in as well. Then he dropped his hand from my cheek and leaned in. I leaned back in. I didn't even dare to close my eyes. I was afraid I would miss his mouth. But our lips met right the way they were supposed to.

It wasn't a long kiss or anything exciting. It was quick, almost like a peck and as we pulled back Alfred was blushing as if he'd never kissed anyone. I was feeling warm, but I wasn't showing shyness and I think it took him aback. He scratched his cheek.

"That was nice," he said.

"Yeah," I said. "…want to do it again?" He laughed as if I was telling a joke, so I grabbed him by the head and pulled him down as I smacked my lips to his. It was a bit awkward and wet, but it was great. As I felt Alfred's fingers slip down my sides, it was actually pretty close to perfection. Even if he had a black eye and a bleeding lip, and I felt bad for Scott. Even then it was nice.

And we didn't even stop as the bus arrived.


	24. 24

I couldn't stop touching Alfred and he couldn't stop touching me.

I think we have both been holding back for longer than what we were able to handle. I know for sure that I have; Daniel was exciting, but he wasn't Alfred and surely I'd allowed for my imagination to play out some pretty hot fantasies in the morning when I woke up with a hard on. But they were nothing like the real thing either.

Now I was sitting in the back of a bus with my fingers holding onto Alfred's hand and shirt, and he was rubbing my knee and smiling. His lip had stopped bleeding, but the blood's metallic taste was still lingering on my tongue. I kept staring him in the eyes wondering if he knew just how handsome he was, even when he was sitting there shyly grinning. I wondered if he thought I was handsome too and if he'd ever been touching himself while imagining me naked. Could he smell me sweating from excitement like I could smell his cheap aftershave wearing off?

And did he plan on getting off at my stop or to wait for his own?

Alfred cleared his throat. He let go of my knee and scratched his cheek as he looked down at his feet. "Do you think," he mumbled.

"Think what?" I asked right away.

Alfred smiled shyly: "That maybe I could... You know, heh-"

"Yeah, sleep over? That would be cool," I said openly. He seemed well surprised that I'd known what he wanted to ask, but he nodded.

"Yeah, thanks," he said. "Cool."

I just smiled, but I could feel an excitement building up inside of me. I could hardly sit still. "It's just sleeping over," I said as if to assure myself of it.

"It is," Alfred said. "We're taking things slow." And we both nodded.

But as we got off at the stop, our hands joined in a tight squeeze and we only gave each other a short look before I grabbed at his jacket and he at my hips, and as if we'd agreed on it we started kissing again. It just seemed _right_. I fumbled my hands up across his chest and reached above his shoulders to dig my fingers into his messy hair.

Alfred's hands slipped to my ass as he pressed me in close. Close enough for me to feel his groin rubbing to mine and though we had some thick fabric between us, the blood in me started pumping as if we were naked and going at it. I felt like a depraved idiot; but on the other hand Alfred wasn't exactly telling me to fuck off, so I forgot all about being shy and _taking things slow_. But I hadn't forgotten about where we were.

"Christ!" I suddenly mumbled and pulled back.

Alfred stuttered: "No tongue?"

"Not that," I said and let go of him. Then I gave him an odd look. "Of course. Tongue. Fuck, no, I mean, what if my parents saw us? Hell, we have to at least get to my room."

Alfred was scratching his hair a bit confused and he asked: "Then what in your room?"

"What what? What then?"

"Yeah, what then," he continued.

"I don't know," I said flustered and grabbed at his hand. But then I let go of it again and nodded towards the complex. "But we can't stand here. Everyone can see us."

"Okay," Alfred mumbled as if he understood, but I don't think he gave it much thought. He walked right past me in a hurry to get to the flat, and I had to speed up not to have him come home before me.

My parents had given me a key. Mom said it was in case I got home late from a slam. Dad said it was to assure that I wouldn't knock on the door and wake him up, and if I dared to do so now I had a key, I would be grounded. I shushed at Alfred as soon as we entered the stairway and tried to unlock the door as quietly as possible.

"I can't make a single noise?" Alfred asked me.

"In my room," I said, "with the door closed it's okay. But I don't want to risk anything just yet." I gave him a stern look and he nodded. Then I opened the door and looked into the dark hallway. It seemed everyone had gone to bed, so I smiled happily at Alfred as I stepped in and started taking off my shoes and jacket. I gestured for him to leave his on and just go to my room, but as he was about to pass me in the hallway, he suddenly cried out.

"Jeez!" he yelped.

"Quiet!" I hushed.

Then the light was turned on. Mom was standing in the door leading from the kitchen to the hallway and she was looking at us with her eyes wide open. As she saw me, she let go of the breath she'd been holding and put her hand to her chest. "Oh you," she said and shook her head.

"Mom?" I said in disbelief and closed the door behind. "Why are you up now?" I could feel my cheeks go red.

"I'm having a headache, I went to take a pill. Alfred," she looked at Alfred who was smiling endearingly, "what happened to you?"

"Hello, Mrs Kirkland," he said.

"Did someone beat you up? You too, Arthur?" she asked and quickly stepped over to inspect my face. I moved away from her touch and grimaced:

"No, Mom, no one did anything. Alfred fell down the stairs at the club," I said. The lie came surprisingly easy to me.

"You did?" she asked.

"I did," Alfred said vainly.

"We were heading to bed," I said.

"With your shoes on?" Mom asked. She was looking at Alfred's feet. He quickly started untying his shoes and pulled off his jacket. Mom now looked at me. I could tell there was worry in her eyes and I was immediately aware of what she was thinking; my son is gay.

"Do you want anything to drink?" I asked Alfred in a quiet voice. He looked at me surprised, but he could tell I wanted for him to nod. So he did. "I'll get us something. You can wait in my room," I suggested. He didn't say anything and I could tell he was awkward. I passed Mom to the kitchen and I heard her say a few, nice things to Alfred before he entered my room.

As I was filling two glasses with water, Mom came back into the kitchen and gave me a long look. "Is this it?" she asked. "You'll never talk to me about anything first? You will never ask?"

"It's not something to discuss," I said. "Besides, Alfred is just a friend."

"How stupid do you think I am, Arthur?"

I tried to empty one of the glasses. It was as if I had to force the water down and I almost choked on it. "I don't know," I then answered and I shrugged wildly. "Okay? I don't know. And I don't know what to talk about or what you think!"

Mom leaned up against the doorway and hugged herself for warmth. She was in her nightdress and a pink, furry robe. "I just hope you know what to do. Don't get in trouble," she said. How ironic considering everything I'd been through. It almost made me stubborn; though she was standing there and pretty much begging me to talk to her, I felt she didn't deserve to know anything. She was my mom and still she hadn't been able to reach out to me when I had hit the ground.

"I know what I am doing," I said sternly and filled the glass again. I then pushed both glasses down into the sink in an annoyed move. "This has nothing to do with you."

"I will go to bed," she said and turned around. As she was about to leave, I called out for her:

"Mom?"

She turned around: "Yes?"

"Don't tell Dad."

She sighed and looked down. "I never tell him anything. But maybe you should," she said and left.

I stood alone in the kitchen for a minute before I finally pulled myself together and headed for my room. Alfred was sitting on my bed resting up against the wall. As I opened the door, he smiled nervously at me.

"Is everything okay?" he asked. I closed the door and shrugged. "Oh?"

"I was in such a good mood. Goodbye, mood!" I mumbled ironically and locked the door.

"Does she know anything?"

"I think so. I don't know. It's those flyers, remember? She got them. But it's like she won't let me in on her thoughts. And then she says I am the one who should be speaking," I said shaking my head. I walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge before falling down to lie on my back as I groaned: "Today has been too messy!"

Alfred leaned in over my lying body. "Can I do anything?" he asked.

"You can promise me that we're together," I said tired and sat up. Alfred looked confused so I grabbed at his hand with a wry smile. "It's been messy since, well, we met, right?"

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"It's my fault as well." I pulled my hand back, but Alfred moved to sit next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. I immediately felt warm. "But I can't deal with all this uncertainty anymore. I hardly know who my friends are. I want to at least know who we are, man."

"We're boyfriends," Alfred said and we both turned red.

"We are?" I said but then agreed, "Yes. That's what we are. Together, uh, boyfriends." It felt odd saying it. As if all this running around just came down to this single thing; being someone's boyfriend. Alfred's boyfriend. It was as if everything we'd had was suddenly reduced to something simple. But it didn't annoy me; it felt like a huge relief.

"Do you want me to come out at school?" Alfred asked out of the blue and I felt myself stiffen. It had been my dream just a few weeks ago, but after everything I'd been through, I wasn't sure. No matter how much I'd hated Alfred at times, I didn't want for him to face the same.

"You don't have to," I answered diplomatically. "But if you screw me over again like you did at the field, it's done."

"We talked about that," Alfred huffed. "You screwed me over as well."

"So what now? What are you saying?"

Alfred seemed to give it a good thought before he answered: "I am saying that we start being cool with each other. Like we used to; before it all came down to deciding exactly what we were."

I bit my inner cheek. "I think I can live with that," I said and smiled a bit. Alfred smiled as well and I stroked his cheek. As he pecked my hand, I laughed lightly and pinched his cheek. "Naughty," I said.

"I was earlier," Alfred answered blushing, "but your mom kinda ruined it."

"Yeah," I mumbled and scratched my neck. I moved in closer to Alfred and he wrapped both his arms around me. I hesitated, but then I moved until I was straddling his lap and facing him. It felt like the old days but better. Alfred had grown since we last sat like this in the playhouse and fumbled with the zipper. He'd gotten muscular and hairy. I started petting his chest lightly.

"What did you have in mind earlier?" I asked.

"Uhmm.." Alfred hummed and looked down at my hand. His fingertips were digging into my back. I could feel them slip up and down a few inches of my spine. "Dirty things."

"Yeah? Like?"

"Like.. Touching you and stuff," he mumbled awkwardly. "Are you sure no one can hear us?"

"Wait a second." I reached out for my alarm on the bedside table. Alfred watched as I messed a bit with the buttons and a radio suddenly started playing. I tried to find some music and finally I hit a station with mainstream pop.

"Smart," he said.

"They would have to listen closely to hear past that," I said and pecked his chin. Alfred smiled and leaned in and I pressed my lips to his instead. I tried to forget all the worries that were in my head; Scott, Mom and everything going on at school. Now I just wanted to concentrate on Alfred.

I started licking across his lips and he cringed.

"Ouch, my lip," he whispered and pressed a finger to where it had been bleeding.

"Fuck, sorry."

"It's fine. Come here-" Alfred placed a heavy hand on my cheek and turned my head a bit as he kissed alongside my cheek to my ear.

I felt butterflies exploding inside of me as he bit down at my lobe and kissed across my ear. I bit my lower lip and groaned. My hands were now running up and down his chest. I was feeling up his muscles and his stiff nipples which were poking at the shirt. As I let my hands slip all the way down to lift it a bit and pressed my fingertips to his skin, he shuddered and chuckled deeply into my ear.

"Cold."

"Warm me up," I suggested and he shuddered again - this time from my words. He leaned a bit back and I pulled my hands away again as I thought he was going to do something, but instead he looked at me quietly for a few seconds. Then he took off his glasses and put them on the table before pulling off his shirt.

I'll admit it; I stared for long as he revealed his tanned, toned body. I let my eyes roam across the trained pecs, the hard brown nipples and followed the little, blond line of curly hair from his navel and down to the band of his boxers peeking up just above his jeans. I felt breathless for a moment, even more as Alfred started tugging at my shirt. Suddenly I was hit by insecurity, but I took off my shirt and sat blushing as Alfred looked at me just as much as I had at him.

I wasn't muscular, I wasn't even really lean though I didn't eat a whole lot. I was just very average and very pale compared to Alfred. But somehow I think I was just what he wanted, because he didn't crinkle his nose once. Instead he grabbed at my sides and leaned back in to lick up my neck. I gasped and eyed the ceiling as I tried to give him room, especially as his lips sucked down on a piece of my skin to make a mark. As he gnawed on it, I begged in a whisper;

"No teeth,"

and he nicely returned to sucking. I held onto his broad shoulders as I felt lust and anxiety creep up my skin; what were we going to do? And how? I suddenly realised that I knew nothing of gay sex. I knew how to jerk off and jerk someone else off, and that was pretty much it. And of course there were blowjobs, but I'd never done it and suddenly I wasn't sure if I wanted to do it right now.

Alfred let go of my skin where he'd left a nice, rosy mark. As he moved, my hands slipped down his defined back and for a moment I again forgot all worries and just enjoyed the feeling of his warm, moving shoulder blades, his hot breathing on my neck and the rough smell from his skin. I buried my nose close to his shoulder and took in a deep breath as his hands grabbed at my ass again. I embraced him and pressed our bodies together, and the bulge in his pants became clear to me as I rubbed past it. It made my heart skip a beat; he was just as horny as I was.

Alfred's hands slipped down my back in one, long move and down my jeans. I felt one of them fiddle with the top of my underwear while the other rubbed just above my crack. It felt strangely nice and I sighed and pressed closer to Alfred, but as his finger suddenly slipped in between my cheeks down there, I yelped and struggled to get up. Instead Alfred quickly pulled his hands back and looked at me confused.

"No good?" he asked.

"What were you doing?" I asked him flustered.

"Well, in the videos.." he started explaining but his words quickly trailed off. He looked almost shameful. "Did it hurt?"

"No, it felt nice," I assured him immediately. "But… weird."

"Should I do it again?"

"I don't know," I said and squeezed my butt cheeks together and looked down. Alfred's bulge was still there. Mindlessly I started playing with the hair on his stomach while I eyed it. "I don't even know how it's done."

"Oh, the cock goes up the ass," Alfred blurted.

I glared at him: "I knew that much!" I wondered since when he'd gotten so sure of himself. But as I looked him in the eyes, I suddenly realised just how insecure he really was. It looked like he was fumbling his way through the situation. "But… honestly Al, do you know how… I mean, so it doesn't hurt and all?"

He slowly shook his head. "But don't worry," he stuttered, "I will make it comfortable for you."

"But- wait, for _me_? Since when am I getting it?"

"Come on!" Alfred laughed. "A footballer taking it? You must be nuts!"

I growled annoyed: "Well, if you think I am just some woman to flip over-"

"I don't!" Alfred said quickly. "Jeez, Arthur, I thought you wanted sex…"

I gave Alfred a long look. His nervous look had returned and as I'd stared him in the eyes for a few seconds, his pupils started shaking and he looked away.

"Don't you want sex?" I asked him.

"Well.."

"I just.. Well, I think it's cool if we just, you know… Do what we know," I said.

Alfred nodded eagerly: "Jerk off!" He seemed relieved.

"I'll rather look more into the whole, eh, _fucking_ before… well.."

"Yeah, me too," Alfred then admitted. "I know how it is with girls, but with men…"

"It's not taught at school." I said as if that excused everything. Alfred nodded and I cleared my throat: "And, when I said taking it slow.. I meant it, okay? No hurry."

Alfred smiled a bit: "Good.. I am in no hurry. I just want you." We both looked away at that and cleared our throats. "My cock is still hard," Alfred then said.

I scratched my groin. "Me too…"

"Go to bed?" Alfred suggested. I got up and turned off the main light, leaving the bedside lamp on. While watching Alfred do the same, I took off my jeans but kept my underwear on for now. Alfred, however, just took off his boxers and lied there openly with his cock hard. It jumped up as it was let free and I couldn't help but to stare at the red, cut head. "Can you at least…?"

"Yeah, yeah," I said and quickly came over to the bed. It was chillier in the room without my clothes on and I snuck in underneath the duvet right away. Alfred did the same and he helped me getting rid of my underwear.

As we were lying looking at each other, I felt a thrill go down my spine. Alfred looked extremely handsome and the little lighting made his azure eyes light up. I couldn't help but to worm my way closer to him as I pecked his lips shortly not to hurt him.

"Okay," he whispered. I nodded. We reached in and fumbled our way to the other's cock and slowly started working up a tempo that would work for both of us.

I think it's needless to explain how a jerk works out, but what I can say is that it was different from Daniel's touch. I was still excited, my cock quickly got hard and started dripping, but it wasn't because Alfred knew how to do it. It was pretty clear he hadn't been touching any cock but his own since mine. But the way he looked at me while doing it, the sounds he made when I moved my hand right and his shaking lips when I tried kissing him when close to coming; that did it for me. That made it all right. And suddenly sex didn't really matter.

* * *

But that doesn't mean I didn't think a lot about sex. I dreamt about it that very night. Vividly I saw Alfred above me spreading my legs and I felt his warmth and heard his comforting words. He touched me and licked me and did things to me I didn't think possible, and as I woke up with my nose bumped up underneath his armpit and heard him snoring lightly, it didn't take much for me to make myself come.

We had forgotten all about the light and the radio as we went to bed. The music was still playing and I reached out and lazily turned it off. My head hurt a little, but as I sat up in bed and watched Alfred deeply asleep, I still smiled. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed; it had been an odd week.

When I sometimes get annoyed at teens' mindless way of engaging with friends and lovers, I think back to that very moment I sat there in bed and waited for Alfred to wake up. There I was, Arthur Kirkland, sixteen years old and known all over school for being a fag. Not even six months earlier had I been turned down by the guy I now called my boyfriend, because he didn't want to believe that I was gay. My mom was suspecting something, my dad started being nice, I'd possibly lost the one friend I had at school but meanwhile strengthen the friendship I had with Matthew. Maybe it was all a mess, but maybe it had all come together the way it should. Everything had happened at the right time; even when Evan betrayed me I'd managed to move on. It seemed that the only thing left for me to take care of was letting my parents know about Alfred and me - and I was in no hurry!

But, I thought as Alfred opened his eyes and grinned at me, what was left for Alfred to do? What did his puzzle look like?

"Morning," he mumbled.

"Good morning," I said and turned off the lamp. Plenty of light was coming in from the window above.

"Do I have something in my eye?" Alfred asked me as he sat up. He was touching his black eye. The colour was a mix of black, blue and a bit of red.

I smiled wryly: "You had a hand in it yesterday."

"A hand?"

"Scott's fist."

Alfred looked like he suddenly remembered. "Oh, yeah… Ouch." He touched it again.

"How is your lip?" I asked him.

"I can't feel it. But the eye-"Alfred shook his head. "I wonder what Mom will say."

"How about your dad?"

"He'll ground me! Hah," Alfred grinned: "Or make me run twenty laps."

"Punishment with fitness - and in the end your muscles may get you in trouble."

"Sarcastic, isn't it?"

I shook my head: "No, it's called ironic."

"Right, ironic. Good I'm not doing English." We smiled at each other and then awkwardly started looking around.

"What do you feel like eating? I think we have scones."

"Scones for breakfast?" Alfred laughed. "I am in."

"Well, you normally have pancakes," I said trying to make my choice sound healthy. I pushed the duvet down and was about to get out of bed as Alfred grabbed me by the shoulder. He leaned in and as I looked at him, he kissed me quickly.

"I'd wanted to do that for long," he mumbled.

I wasn't sure how to react and just stammered: "Don't turn into a girl." I got up and started collecting Alfred's clothes from the floor and threw it to him. He was sitting on the bed grinning at me. "Get dressed, I need to take a piss."

"Naked?" he asked me.

I looked down myself and then grabbed my stuff off of the floor as well. "Maybe not." I started getting dressed and Alfred moved off of the bed to put on his boxers. He didn't get further, though, because he got distracted by my bookshelf. He started letting his fingertips slide across some of the titles.

"Remember when we followed these like obsessed kids?" he asked and I had to walk over to see what he meant. He pulled out a Hulk-comic.

"Yes," I smiled and suddenly felt it all come back to me. "I gave you all those posters.."

"I still have them," he said.

"You do?" I said surprised.

He smiled: "In a box. Everything from the shack is in that box we put it in."

"And you kept it all these years?" Alfred nodded. "Wow," I mumbled and watched as he put the comic back in.

"Yeah.. Man, we did a lot together," he sighed.

"Heh, remember that game we played?" I said and smiled. Alfred looked at me and I couldn't help a cheeky smile: "Sack-tapping!"

"Right!" Alfred said and something lit up in his eyes. "I loved it."

"I hated it," I said, "because you always touched me first, so I had to go and grab Ivan or whoever."

"I was just good at the game," he laughed.

"You just wanted to touch me," I said pulling on my shirt. "All that talk about infomercials and boys groping." I was teasing him, but Alfred was biting his lip as I looked at him again. I was putting on my pants. "What?"

"Yeah, well, I was very curious about you," he said.

"You were?"

"Mhmm, weren't you going to take a piss?"

"Right." I could tell he didn't want to say more, so I grabbed my socks and put them on while stumbling to the bathroom. Alfred only slowly got dressed.

We spent the rest of that day watching movies in the living room. Mom politely avoided saying a single word that could be misunderstood, but she did give me some long looks. Alfred had _forgotten_ to point out to me that he did in fact leave a mark on my neck. I ran and hid it with a scarf before Dad got back home from work. I think he would've been more outspoken than Mom.

It was odd saying goodbye to Alfred, because neither of us really knew how we would be around each other from now on, but I had my hopes up high. We both wanted this and it had to work out somehow.

Sunday I got a call. I almost expected to hear Scott's voice as I picked up, but instead it was Matthew who'd called me.

"How did everything go?" he asked immediately, hardly giving me time to say my name.

I took in a deep breath: "It's good. Yes, it's good." And I smiled.

"Scott is angry. Oscar is denying everything," Matthew said. "Don't expect him to be all good tomorrow at school."

"Thanks for telling me," I said and felt honestly grateful. "I won't approach him then."

"How are things with Alfred?"

I hesitated. "Do you really want to know about Al?"

"Yes," Matthew said. "Friends, right? Just… nothing explicit."

I laughed: "Okay, listen…"

I gave Matthew a nice version of the evening; about how Alfred and I had admitted to liking each other a whole lot and were pretty much boyfriends now. He took it all nicely. "Maybe you can make him hate me lessm" he even laughed.

"I will try," I said and meant it. "Maybe you can try with Scott?"

"Oh, Scott is no joke," Matthew answered and he sounded a bit nervous. "You see, Oscar… No wait, no more hate; let's just see what happens between you, right?"

I wasn't sure what Matthew was on to, but I just answered: "Right." I was indeed curious about what was going to happen. But truth is very little happened.

* * *

Monday at school I was looking all over the cafeteria for Scott, but I couldn't see him. I sat alone at our table, and after fifteen minutes I finally spotted him in the crowd, but he was together with some other guys. I could recognise some of them from his PE class. He wasn't saying a whole lot, just looking down at his food while the others chatted. A few tables away by the windows I saw Peter and Louis and a bunch of guys I knew by face and some I hadn't seen before. The more I looked, the more I felt I was watching some sort of wall being built between the two groups of guys. It was as if they all tried to avoid looking at each other, but sometimes a nasty look or comment was let go of.

I didn't see Alfred anywhere. Though I sat waiting for him to show up, he didn't and by the time my break was over, I still had no clue what he was up to. Scott just frowned at me as we passed each other in the hallway. If my mood had been bad Friday evening, his was ten times worse. He looked like a depressed, lonely soul.

Don't get me wrong; I wanted to talk to Scott. I really did. I felt I had been an idiot for not letting him know about Oscar right away, but on the other hand I didn't feel like being blamed for their whole relationship whether it would work out or not. From what Matthew had told me, it sounded like they were talking about things - even if talking meant Oscar denying everything. But that just made me feel a bit anxious; what if he was innocent? Maybe it had just been a close friend of his. But if that was the case and Scott had nothing to fear, then why had he reacted so strongly when someone he knew was trying to hurt him had pointed this out to him? If someone like Peter had told me that Alfred was seeing Jennifer again, I wouldn't have believed him one bit. But Scott had taken Alfred's words close, close enough to ask me. And now ignore me.

So though not speaking with Scott gave me a bit of a headache, I was busy trying to study. Time had passed by swiftly and the exams were approaching. But it wasn't English nor art that was occupying my mind; Alfred was.

I had fallen hard for the guy. For years. But now I finally had not only the chance to touch and kiss him, but also the maturity to think past holding hands and smiling. As if I was put back in state school, I started getting hard during classes while imagining the craziest things, I sneaked to the bathroom during break to sit and calm down, and I even started sketching some things at home which weren't flowers and had a rating above PG.

This first week we didn't even try to deny ourselves any pleasures; though I didn't see nor hear from Alfred the first Monday, I surely did Tuesday. He caught me heading out of the toilets during break and stopped me.

"Have you seen that stupid thing?" he asked me.

"What thing?" I answered confused and he grabbed at my hand and quickly led me past the empty stalls to the last one in the back. He pointed in and I looked around, but then he pushed me from behind and followed, closed the door and grinned. I glared at him. "Oh, you're the stupid thing?" I asked.

Alfred grabbed me by the cheeks and smiled: "Be nice now."

So I kissed him nicely. He wasn't as nice; his hands were soon on my ass and feeling it up, and I responded by teasingly grabbing him through the jeans. I just couldn't help myself; everything in me wanted to be all over him and he purred happily. As I started working on his zipper though, he seemed to be overwhelmed.

"Christ, Arthur, _here_?" he whispered.

I'd almost forgotten he didn't have the same experience as Daniel. After standing outside in the backyard with my cock hanging out, I wasn't really all that shy about public places. "Just quick?" I whispered and looked into his eyes.

He looked excited and scared at the same time. "I can't," he said though still feeling me up. It made me annoyed and frustrated.

"Then why are you making me horny like this?" I asked in a huff.

"I-I just wanted to kiss," he stuttered and because he looked so innocent, I actually managed to feel bad for him.

"Okay," I sighed.

"Okay?" he said with a little smile. So we kissed. I left his crotch alone and just hugged him close as we let our tongues slip past one another. I felt up his square teeth and wet mouth, and he mumbled things to my mouth that I didn't hear. I was so caught up in him that I didn't even notice that class had started again. Alfred didn't either. Suddenly he just jumped back.

"What is the time?" he asked and I shrugged. "Fuck, I can't hear anyone down the yard. Do you think-"

"Classes started," I sighed.

"Alright, I need to run. PE," he said and I nodded.

"Hey, what did your mom say about your eye, by the way?"

Alfred unlocked the door and peeked out. He then stepped out. His cheeks were all red and he looked extremely happy as he looked back at me. "Uh, not much."

"Not much?" I said and raised my brows.

"I got to go - see you, man," Alfred said and hurried out of there. I looked around before closing the stall again and sitting down on the seat to finish myself off. Just because Alfred was shy, I didn't have to be.

* * *

And Alfred surely was more shy; as the days passed, I started to feel more like a sex-depraved creature than his boyfriend. We met at every break to chat a little and make out a lot, but it was as if Alfred hesitated with even groping and I just couldn't wait for the weekend to come and for the privacy in a bedroom. Because he had a lot of after-school activities (most of them involving sport), we'd agreed to wait for Friday afternoon with hanging out. Then I would go home with him so that we could be together undisturbed. But I couldn't wait; something had grown inside of me and exploded, and it made my heart beat fast and my brain unable to focus on silly things such as _homework_.

My dad noticed right away. Thursday evening I could hardly sit still at the dinner table knowing that I would be going home to Alfred's the next day and as I discreetly mumbled that I wouldn't be home for dinner tomorrow, Dad placed his hand on my shoulder.

"We need to talk," he said and I sent Mom a nervous look. She looked at Dad.

"You need to talk about what?" she asked.

"A dad to son talk," Dad said.

I feared the worst.

As we'd cleared the table and Mom had sat down to watch some dating show on telly, Dad followed me into my room. I sat down on my chair by the desk and Dad sat down on the edge of my bed and looked around. He was quiet. I was feeling awkward and scared. But then he cleared his throat.

"You've gotten older," he said and I just nodded. "I know we should've spoken way earlier, but since you never had a girlfriend.."

"I don't have one now," I said, but Dad just smiled at me knowingly; as if he had some sort of secret information.

"I have seen the look in your eyes," he said. "You're in love!"

I choked on air and shook my head. "Dad!"

"You're in love!" he said again, and his voice was very teasing. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I know it very well myself. I remember this girl I met-"

"Mom?" I asked.

Dad smiled wryly: "Not your Mom. See, the thing about teenage love is that it comes and goes quickly. That is what I want to chat with you about."

I nodded slowly. I could sense where this was going and I wasn't sure what to think of it; was I actually disappointed it seemed he didn't know I was gay, or was I happy he thought I had finally turned into girlfriend-material despite not looking like Alfred?

"You're at the age where the body rages," he continued his explanation: "The hormones go wild! You just can't stop your cock from-"

"Dad!" I cried again and grimaced. "I am sixteen! Almost seventeen - I _know_ about that!"

He seemed to contain himself a little. "All I am saying is that you can make a lot of mistakes when in a hurry to try it all out. I understand, but I don't want your future to be ruined." He looked me right in the eyes. I felt my mouth go dry as he said: "You already know a lot of things that I will never understand. You're an, what is that… academic guy. A smart kid. I thought for long that you should be like me, someone doing carpeting or the like. But you belong with a book! I'm.. sorry it took me long to understand, but now I need for you to know that you can't throw all this away because you're in love."

I felt my heart skip several beats. I actually felt my eyes go a bit blank. Dad was saying all that I had wanted for him to say when I was a kid and what made me the saddest was that I somewhat knew this came late. I needed this three years ago. Not now - and I felt ungrateful for thinking like this.

Dad was looking tired. I understood that he was finding this as hard to say as it was for me to hear. "But," he said, "this is why this is important." He reached into his pocket and looked towards the door. I did as well, but no one was there and as I looked back at him, he was holding a pack of condoms. I felt myself blushing.

" _Really_ , Dad?" He handed them to me and I took them after a second of considering the situation. They were size S. I felt a bit insulted.

"Condoms," he said in case I didn't know already. "So you don't make anyone pregnant. But remember; not even those are safe. They can break."

"Gee, really?" I mumbled sarcastic, but the look he sent me made me shut up again. "Thanks, I guess."

"You'll love many times in your life," he said, "but having a baby, huh, that is for life! You can't reverse that situation. So think carefully."

"I will," I promised and slowly put the box on the desk.

Dad didn't get up right away. "Do you have any questions about girls?" he asked.

"No," I said and shook my head. "Not really."

"Are you sure?"

I looked at him. I could tell he was really hoping that I would ask him something, just so that he could go out of the room feeling like a good man who gave his best at educating his son in sex. So I cleared my throat and desperately tried to come up with something that would make sense to ask. But what did I know about girls? I only knew my own problem which was being way less shy and hornier than Alfred. So naturally I asked: "If a girl is not up for it, you know…"

"Sex?" Dad asked encouragingly.

"Not necessarily _that_ ," I said. "But just, doing things. Then what?"

"Well," Dad said and he straightened up as if to look authoritative. "Women can be odd. They only want sex when you have other plans. But you have to… jump in and take it when they're willing, you know? Never pressure a girl. That will scare her away. Take things slow," (I almost laughed at that), "and try to get her in the mood."

"Okay," I said. "Thanks."

"Anything else?" he asked and I shook my head. Finally he got up. "Alright. That was informing. Well, if there's anything.." He didn't finish his sentence but we just nodded awkwardly at each other. He patted at the pack of condoms and I waved at him with it as he left and closed the door behind. Then I smacked my forehead with them.

"I am not size S," I mumbled and looked at the package. "..or am I?" I turned it around and started reading on it to figure out how you're supposed to measure those kind of things. I looked at the text on the back. Apparently I had been given a box of condoms with rings to 'make it extra special for the woman. Lube included'. In the corner it read: 'Protects against sexually transmitted diseases.' Yet a thing I hadn't thought about; diseases.

"I guess it's true," I mumbled, "when they say the hardest lessons aren't taught at school." I opened my drawer and dumped the box in it. Now I had to read up on gay sex _and_ diseases. Somehow I had a feeling that Alfred wouldn't.

* * *

"Are you sure your parents won't be home?"

Alfred was dragging his bike along while I held onto his football. I sometimes let it slip down onto the ground and kicked it a bit before picking it up again. Alfred was watching me closely as he answered: "I am sure. I told you already; they'll be out for dinner. But I said you're sleeping over and they're cool with it."

"Good," I nodded.

"And you're fine with not going to the slam?"

"Hah," I said. "I don't want to risk seeing Scott there. I am perfectly fine going home with you."

He smiled at me gratefully: "Good."

We were heading home to Alfred's place, but since he'd come by bike, we had to walk. It wasn't too bad; though it would take about twenty minutes, Alfred had my bag on his bike and I only had to focus on keeping a hold of his ball for the next few kilometres. I could manage that, I believed.

"Where have you been hiding, by the way?" I asked him as we rounded a corner.

"Hiding?"

"Yeah, I mean, we do hang out at breaks, but only after I've eaten. I never see you in the cafeteria. Where are you?"

"Uh…" Alfred took in a deep breath. "It's somewhat stupid.."

"Tell me," I said. "If it can be said in less than, uh, fifteen minutes?" I smiled.

"Well, my friends have noticed I hang out with you. Obviously. And they're not all happy about it," he said. I remembered what I'd overheard in the locker room last week and I nodded. "So right now they're choosing sides. Who can accept me and who can't. I don't know, I just think it gets too much. So I'd rather not deal with it right now."

"Is that why they now have two tables in the cafeteria?" I asked.

"They do?" Alfred said surprised. "Uh, I suppose, yeah."

"Seems like Louis and Peter has given up on you, then."

Alfred snorted: "Like I care."

"I hoped you would say that," I said and put the ball down again as the road was empty. I started kicking it slowly in front of me. "They were the ones who cared the least for me."

"They were the bullies?"

"There were others," I answered, "but they were the worst. That's how I felt anyway."

"We just have to see," Alfred said. "Who'll still talk to me. But I don't want to be friends with anyone who can't accept you."

I lit up in a smile: "That is reasonable."

Alfred looked at me smiling as well: "It is."

As we started leaving the town and got out on the smaller roads leading to the village; there were less people and less cars, and I started to feel something inside of me bloom. I longed for going back here though I didn't dare to say it out loud. I started kicking the ball further and ran for it, and Alfred grinned at me and looked like he most of all just wanted to throw his bike to the ground and play.

"Ivan could never play," I said out of the blue and kicked the ball so it almost slipped out of the road.

"You never could nor can play," Alfred laughed. I stuck my tongue out at him. "Ivan is cool."

"Ah?" I said disinterested.

"I told him about us."

I swirled around at that and gawked: "Like, us. As in-"

"Us being together, yeah," Alfred said and passed me with the bike. I hurriedly ran to pick up the ball and started walking by his side again. I was looking at him.

"Why? What did he say? How?"

"I told you we still see each other," Alfred said. "We both live in the village. A lot has moved away. I just felt he ought to know. He's one of my real friends. Not just a jock." I was still waiting to hear what he said. Alfred smiled at me as he saw how nervous I looked: "He took it nicely. He even said he'd felt it since we were kids. That you were gay anyway. I came as a bit of a surprise to him. But we chatted for long and he said he doesn't understand," Alfred shrugged, "but that he doesn't mind."

"Oh…" I mumbled and looked at the ball. "It can be that easy?"

"For some apparently," Alfred said and looked up at the sky.

We were quiet for a bit after that. I tried to remember Ivan as he'd been back when I still knew him. As a kid I'd thought he was fat, but thinking back he was actually just a bit chubby and he had some nice eyes. I remembered our trip with him to the girls' changing room and snorted.

"What?" Alfred said.

"Remember how we saw his sister naked?"

Alfred laughed: "Yes, and he does too. I think if it happened today, he would punch us!"

"But back then he encouraged us! Hah, what a joke, the school was furious."

"Yeah, and remember Tino who was supposed to teach us sex properly so that we wouldn't do such scandalous things again?" Alfred asked still laughing.

"He was horrible at it!" I grinned.

"Well, he's gay, what can you expect."

I stared at him. "Tino was gay?"

Alfred glared back at me. "You didn't know?" I shook my head and he smiled mildly. "It was a common rumour. I suppose you never saw the end of it as you moved. He had an affair with a student."

"He did?" I almost shouted.

"One of the boys. The older guy that was very much into football. Uh, I think Gilbert went to class with him?" I could only remember Gilbert from our groping games, and else not at all. "He was Swedish, I think."

"Wow," I mumbled.

"Yeah, it was in all the papers. He had to quit his job. But he loves this place, he doesn't really want to move. Now he lives in that old house by the church with him."

"By the church… Wait, Rome's house?" I said. Alfred nodded. "What… what happened to Rome?"

"He's dead," Alfred said and looked at me surprised. He must have pondered why I looked so devastated being told this. "You didn't know?"

"I really have missed out on a lot," I mumbled and eyed the ground.

I couldn't let Alfred know just why this piece of information hit me hard. That I'd talked to Rome about being gay was bad enough; but about being gay for Alfred! I couldn't let him know. Instead I tried not to think too much about it. At least someone else was now taking care of the house.

As we got closer to Alfred's house he started talking about movies we could see and things we could read. It wasn't at all what I'd had in mind when I came to see him.

"There's this funny movie," he said, "about a teenager who gets condoms-"

"Condoms!" I said. Alfred looked at me oddly. I smiled. "Sorry, it was just because of my dad yesterday…"

"Your dad got condoms?" Alfred asked as he parked the bike up against the house.

"Yeah, for me."

"For you!" Alfred started laughing. "That was late! My dad did that when I was fourteen!"

"He even got them in size small," I said and Alfred laughed even more.

"We don't even need that. We can't have kids," he said. I felt my face heat up as he said that and I watched him unlock the front door.

"About that.." I said in a mumble. "It said on the pack that it protects against diseases."

"Yeah, but we don't have any. I mean, we've never done anything," Alfred said and stepped in. I stepped into the house as well as if it was the most natural thing ever. I stepped out of my shoes and took off my jacket as Alfred got our bags and dumped them in the hallway.

"Technically, we could've gotten them elsewhere."

"Like how?"

"Through blood?" I said.

Alfred cringed his nose: "Whose blood have you been drinking?"

"No one's!" I hissed. "I am just saying! Jeez, I don't want to risk giving you anything."

"Hold on - when I am inside of you, I am not getting anything.

"No," I said, "correction; I am inside of you."

We looked at each other.

"Do you even know what that involves?" Alfred asked.

"Yes," I said. "No. I don't know. Do you?" He shook his head honest.

"I have been thinking that maybe we should find out," he said. I nodded a little and looked down at my feet.

"I think that too."

"Do you want to do it now?"

I looked up at him: "Now? As in, here?"

"My parents have a computer in the living room," he said.

"Oh."

We didn't have a computer at home, but obviously I knew how to use one. We used them at school sometimes, but I still preferred the book and the written word compared to the machine. But I hadn't considered that you could search for _that_ kind of information on it.

Alfred led the way and I just followed behind. I could feel myself getting nervous even before he'd turned it on. He grabbed me a chair from the kitchen and we sat in front of the screen waiting for it to be ready.

"Have you done this before?" I asked him as he started going online.

"Searched the internet?"

"No, I mean - searched for gay things."

Alfred smiled secretly: "Well, magazines cost, this is for free.."

I didn't need to know more.

Actually, I think I would've preferred if we hadn't gotten to know anything at all.

As we first started looking around, there were some nice things that got the blood in me boiling; pictures of men sucking each others' cock and young, smooth blonds being bended over by hairy, muscular blokes. I felt my toes spread and curl in excitement as I looked at the many pictures and I could tell Alfred too found it all well hot. But then he clicked to the second page.

"Aw, man!" I cried and leaned back into my chair.

"Is he licking his ass-"

"Yes," I interrupted him, "yes he is. I don't want to do _that_." I looked at Alfred horrified and he clicked back. "Gross, isn't it?"

"Well…"

"Don't tell me you would like to do that!" I gasped.

"No," Alfred then said. "No, of course not." But I had already seen him hesitate. I didn't comment on it, though, instead we turned back towards the screen.

"Let's try something with text instead," I said. "Not just all these pictures." Truth to be told, the last one had turned me off. But the text didn't help.

I think neither of us had really considered what gay sex involved. Surely we could say it shortly and harshly - the man gets a cock up his ass. But as we really started thinking about it and thinking about how one of us would have to force his cock up the other's ass, that didn't sound attractive! And suddenly it wasn't a question of being a giver or a taker - it was a question about us wanting this at all.

We read about fingering - the thing Alfred had almost tried out on me. But also that it had to be done with lube not to hurt. So we read about different kinds of lube and condoms, and about cum and how to clean it out of your system. And how to clean your ass before even letting anyone in.

At some point I started feeling sick. I had to get up and go to the kitchen to drink some water before I could continue. As I came back into the living room with a white face, Alfred deleted every address we had visited and turned the laptop off. "You know what," he said, "this isn't necessary."

"Jerking off is fine," I whispered.

"And blows look cool," he said.

I grinned a bit at that: "Yeah.."

Alfred got up and walked over to me. He grabbed me by the hands and smiled at me a bit. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah… Just…" I shook my head and sighed. "Do you think we'll ever be ready for that?"

"I don't know," he said honestly and shrugged. "I mean… You seem more ready for it all than I am…" I looked him in the eyes. He was blushing deeply.

"Al," I said. "If I ever cross a line - let me know, right?"

Alfred nodded: "I will."

"So," I mumbled. "What about that movie? About a guy buying condoms?"

* * *

Needless to say we didn't do much else than to cuddle up on the sofa that afternoon. The pictures from online and the things I'd read had left a heavy mark of realism in the midst of all my fantasies. Suddenly it wasn't as sexy as I'd made it out to be; I couldn't just imagine Alfred slipping his cock inside of me without also thinking about just what that hole was normally for, about hair-removal down there, lube and condoms and cum. It made me shudder. But I kept telling myself that it was okay; Alfred was even less in the mood for moving on that far than I was.

We got so caught up in watching movies and just chatting that we were surprised as his parents came home. Alfred's mom smiled brightly as she saw me and told me just how good it was to see me back in the house. Alfred's dad merely nodded at me, but I could tell he was pleased as well. It made me ponder about what they thought of me.

"And the hair colour and clothes," his mom said, "all back to normal I see?"

"It got a bit tiring being hardcore," I laughed.

"You're looking good," his dad said. "But you, Al, should be doing some more push-ups."

I snickered - he'd clearly not seen Alfred shirtless. He wasn't in the need of extra exercise.

I quickly found myself fitting in with the Jones family just as if I'd always been there. Alfred and his dad bickered, his mom gave us biscuits and later we moved to his room tired and lied in his bed with our arms wrapped around each other.

"This year," I whispered, "I want to be together with you all summer. Birthday and all."

"Mhmm," Alfred mumbled. "I will find you a nice gift."

"Not a dildo," I said.

"Aww, how did you know?"

"I saw how you looked at that site for sex toys," I snickered and he laughed.

"Okay, not a dildo. A unicorn? Do you still like those?"

"I do," I mumbled and pecked his chin. "I still have the one you gave me back then."

"I think I lost the figure you gave me," Alfred admitted shyly.

"That's okay," I yawned. "Dad paid for it anyway." We both laughed and kissed warmly.

"Arthur?" he mumbled.

"Mhmm?" I hummed partly asleep.

"..I am really glad you're finally mine."

I smiled and buried my face to his chest. I wanted to say something nice back, but I felt my throat knot up, so I just nodded. Alfred fell asleep quickly and I pressed a kiss to his chest while thinking about just how happy I was myself.

* * *

Then time started passing by quickly. I will be honest and say that when thinking back, everything seems like a blur to me. My need for sex all the time had been stopped immediately after having looked online and instead I felt peace with casually jerking off and having Alfred helping me out whenever we could be together. Having been cooled off also made it all fit better together; when Alfred was up for something I was as well, and vice versa.

It was good having less sexual tension to deal with, because I really had to study hard not to watch my grades go down. It was something I'd feared for already back when the bullying started, but now I was actually pretty happy with life and couldn't even use being taunted as an excuse if I got a C in something. Alfred had to work all the harder; he hadn't prepared for anything throughout the year and he suddenly realised just how much he had to read. He started skipping classes to have time to do homework. It was a vicious circle he'd gotten himself into, but I didn't comment - it really was his own fault.

Things with Scott didn't seem to brighten, rather he denied speaking to me at all. I watched everything from the sideline and could see how things progressed as weeks passed us by. The two groups of guys became very visible and as Alfred finally gained courage to show up at the cafeteria, neither of them paid him attention. It hurt me to see him standing all alone looking between the two tables without anyone speaking up and in the end he took in a deep breath and walked straight to my table and sat down across of me. I gave him a surprised look and he shrugged his shoulders at me and started eating.

"Are you sure-?" I asked him the first time and he answered:

"I don't want to lick anyone's ass to get in."

"Are you sure?" I said. "You seemed pretty keen on licking just a week ago." That made him blush and I laughed. We had the funniest breaks together.

Well into May, however, something changed. As Alfred was heading for my table, a guy next to Scott suddenly stood up.

"Alfred!" he shouted out and Alfred turned around. Scott looked well confused and so did I. "Don't you want to join us?"

"You can't be serious!" Scott hissed.

Then another guy spoke up: "Yeah, do."

Alfred looked at me and I waved him off, but the first guy said: "You too, Arthur.."

The other table with Louis and Peter sitting at it was giving them glares, but Alfred happily walked over to the table and I slowly got up. Scott also got up, but that was in a harsh move; he almost knocked his chair over as he stood up, grabbed his food and left the cafeteria. The other guys just looked at their lunch without commenting, and Alfred took over his seat.

"Are you coming, Arthur?" he asked. I looked after Scott as I felt my heart clench, but I nodded.

"Yes.." I mumbled and walked over there.

It was odd seating myself by the table of these tall, muscular guys. Most of them were manlier than I'd ever dreamt of being and I almost felt like the girl in a group. Like Jennifer. Every time someone said something, I expected for it to be an insult, but the insult never came. I only heard some mumbling from the other table, but not the one I had been invited to.

"There's a party next Friday," someone suddenly said and looked at me.

I felt my heart skip several beats as I looked at the guy; short, hairy and with dimples. "Oh?"

"Do you want to come? I know Alfred is going."

I opened and closed my mouth. Then I whispered: "I… I need to study." I was sure they would laugh now. But no:

"I should do that as well," someone else said. Others joined in and agreed, and some even said that maybe they would skip the party as well.

"Well," the guy with the dimples said, "if you ever feel like it… come by, okay?"

"We're not like the other guys," another said and nodded towards the other table. Then he smiled a bit: "We might not say a lot, but yeah, you're here, you know Alfred and now we can know you, right?"

"Right," I said and a few seconds later I said: "Uh, my name is Arthur and I am not an alcoholic."

It made them laugh. I felt like I was shining and Alfred clenched my knee underneath the table.

* * *

First came art exam and soon followed everything else. It was a stressful time and Dad kept thinking I was just out of my mind because of being in love. He kept giving me advice on the side; flowers are nice, everyone loves chocolate, watch 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' with her. I just thanked him and nodded. I didn't know what else to do.

Then, in the middle of everything and when I thought I was about to hit the bottom, Alfred showed up at my doorstep with a big grin on his face.

"Have you ever been to Cornwall?" he asked me and I shook my head. "Here's your chance! Mom and Dad are taking the car down there this summer - two weeks in a rented house. Close to the beach and all. They said you could come. Do you want to?"

I walked out, closed the door behind me and then hugged him tightly as I placed a wet kiss on his lips. "I would love to!" I yelped.

Alfred laughed and took a strong hold of me: "Watch out, I don't want to fall down the stairs!"

"What is that noise!" the lady from upstairs shouted and looked down. We looked up at her still closely embraced. As she saw me, she huffed: "Yob!" as she'd done when I was still punk. But then she noticed Alfred and her face lit up. She looked between us and we quickly let go of each other. Then she nodded. "Ah… Ah, I see. Lovely youngsters."

"Hello," Alfred said.

"Good luck with the exams," she said and disappeared back inside her own flat. I looked at Alfred and he looked at me and we laughed.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Oh, she was always so angry with me when I was still dressing up oddly. She seemed to be in a good mood!"

"You don't think she would tell, do you?" he asked and nodded towards my door. I shook my head.

"Not a chance! She hates Dad."

"Does she like anyone?"

"Who knows?" I said and kissed him again quickly. "Does it matter? I know I like someone." I smiled cheekily and Alfred pinched my cheek.

"Save that for the vacation."

So I did. I finished my exams exhausted (though Alfred looked like he had suffered more than I had) and in July all I could think about was going to Cornwall with Alfred two weeks later. I was on top of the world, and as Scott left a note in my locker at the school reading: 'Sorry - can we talk when you have time?' I couldn't feel better.

I was in love. I was getting accepted. Scott was opening up.

I, Arthur Kirkland, was finally understanding what being happy means.


	25. 25

Mom didn't know how to react as she heard about my trip to Cornwall. She kept rubbing her hands together and sent me many strange looks. "Are you sure it's okay with his parents?" she asked me, but even though I kept telling her that it was fine, she called them to confirm it over and over again. It was embarrassing to see her on the phone as she struggled to get Alfred's mom to accept money for bringing me with them. Even though she was turned down, she handed me twenty quid the evening before I was leaving.

"They don't want money, Mom," I said. I almost added that they didn't need the money, but I wisely avoided pointing that out to her. Though Dad had gotten a raise and Mom had plenty of work to do, we still weren't as well off as Alfred's family was. I didn't mind, though I sometimes looked longingly at his new jackets and shoes. But Mom seemed well shy about it.

"Take it and give it to them," she said and closed my fingers around the note. I put it in my pocket just to please her, but I already knew that I wasn't going to hand it to them.

Dad was more relaxed about the situation. He even started chatting to me about what a fine possibility this could turn out to be for me. "Do you know what's at the beach?" he asked me one day and held a long pause to empathize his point. "Ladies."

"Dad," I huffed and smiled wryly. "I am already in love, remember?"

"Oh yeah, love," he said ponderingly. "Well, let's see how many times you'll be in love this summer."

I know he was just trying to appear very open-minded; he wanted to be my good buddy and all he knew was that most teenage boys want to talk about girls all the time. But I found it awkward that he seemed to forget just who I would be going with. Even if I had been desperate to nail a girl, I wouldn't have had a chance to score when Alfred strolled down the same beach in a pair of trunks while flashing his muscles. But when I told Dad, he just shook his head at me.

"Even Alfred can only handle one girl at a time. Who'll be looking out for the rest while he's busy?"

As I already knew I was going to be this so-called girl Alfred would be handling, I couldn't really answer his question.

We'd agreed that I would be picked up at nine in the morning. It was about a seven hour drive to get to the house and neither us of wanted to get there too late in the afternoon. I'd gotten up at eight and showered, and was now sitting in the kitchen sipping a cup of tea while watching the parking space. Mom had a day off, but she'd gotten up early to wish me a good trip. She was toasting some bread in silence.

"They should be here by now," I said and tiptoed to get a better view of the space. The curtains in front of the window were in the way, but I couldn't push them more to the side. "Can you see them?" I turned to look at Mom and she put down her plate as she walked over and stood behind me.

"Not yet," she said. She slipper her hand to my shoulder and gave it a squeeze, and I looked at her with a little smile. "You're so grown up in all of a sudden," she said and sighed. "Going away for so long…"

"Mom, I've been going to parties for even longer. I think that's a bit more grown up than going to the beach," I pointed out. Mom let go of my shoulder and for a moment I worried that I'd said something wrong, but then she nodded.

"But as a parent, Arthur, you don't always notice these things. But then, all of a sudden, you see that your child has become a man." She leaned back up against the table and I couldn't help but to embrace her. It was as if she was much smaller and more fragile in my arms than she'd ever been.

"I'll be fine, Mom," I promised and she hugged me back.

"I know, Arthur. Just don't do anything stupid," she said and at the same time we heard a knocking on the front door. I let go of her and peeked out the window. A car had parked right next to ours and I lit up in a smile.

"It's them!" I said and hurried to the hallway. As I opened the door, Alfred was standing out there. He was looking tired, his hair was a mess and he was holding a half-eaten sandwich in his right hand.

"Hey," he said groggily and took a bite of his sandwich. I looked him up and down.

"Not used to getting up early?" I asked and reached into my room for my bag. Alfred shrugged and chuckled.

"I can sleep in the car."

"I thought you were going to entertain me?"

"Oh, you can watch me," he said and I grimaced.

"Very funny." I put on my shoes and grabbed my jacket. Mom stepped out into the hallway and smiled at Alfred.

"You guys have fun," she said.

"We will," Alfred promised. I stepped over and pecked her cheek.

"Don't let Dad drive you insane," I said and she slapped me jokingly. Alfred grabbed my bag and we both waved before closing the door. "Jeez," I mumbled and took the bag out of Alfred's hand as we started walking down the stairs.

"What? Did you have an argument?" he asked me and I shook my head.

"She said I was a man now. And that I shouldn't do anything stupid," I explained.

Alfred laughed: "Too late, you're with me now!" And I sent him a grin.

"Right, I'm with you."

* * *

The drive didn't last seven hours, it took nine. We started out well and everyone's spirit was high, and though Alfred was snoozing on the backseat I was chatting with his parents and singing along their favourite songs when they played on the radio. Alfred's mom had stacked up on candy and she kept handing me some while his dad told her not to.

"They'll be high on sugar," he said concerned and she pecked his lips and gave us some more sweets.

But after four hours of driving we had a long break at a gas station. We had lunch, then everyone had to pee and when we were seated Alfred needed to go again, because he said his seatbelt was squeezing his stomach. The line had gotten long by then and we spent twenty minutes just waiting for him to come back.

Then, after half an hour of driving, his Mom got a headache and wanted to get a drink. We had to stop three times for her and while Alfred and I didn't mind it, Alfred's dad was getting annoyed. "Take a pill or something!" he said. Then she got upset. Then they argued. Alfred started feeling tired again and my throat was throbbing because I felt like puking after having eaten so many sweets.

For an hour no one said much and the mood was horrible. I sat looking out the window while wondering if the trip had been a horrible mistake and as Alfred chirped up about being hungry, I couldn't help but to glare at him. "We're all hungry," I said. "You have to wait."

"We'll be there soon, Alfie," his mom promised.

"But I am _super_ hungry," he said and pressed his hands flat to his stomach. "I am so hungry there's a hole through me!" He gave me an honest look. "Feel!" he said and I harshly smacked my fist to his stomach so he flinched and whined.

"Nope, it didn't go through," I said. Alfred's dad laughed hysterically.

"Let me try!" he roared from behind the wheel.

"You're all mean!" Alfred said and rolled up. But he was smiling. The little outburst raised everyone's mood (especially Alfred's dad's who couldn't stop talking about doing sit-ups) and the last half an hour of driving was alright. But we were all pleased as when parked in front of the house.

It was a two story place situated in a neighbourhood about a mile away from town, but only 500 metres away from the beach. It reminded me a bit of what I used to live in in the village, but it was just more modern and clearly well-kept.

"There's a great backyard," Alfred's dad said and opened the boot of the car to pull put our luggage. "We can lit a bonfire out there."

"Yeah, and roast marshmallows," Alfred said as he reached in and grabbed a box with food. They'd bought most of what they needed at the supermarket at home to avoid being overcharged. I swung the strap of my bag over my shoulder and grabbed a box as well.

"Have you been here before?" I asked.

"Some time ago, yeah," Alfred's mom said and picked up her purse. We all walked up the stairs to the front door and waited for it to be unlocked. She pressed her way in between us, unlocked the door and held it open as we jogged to the kitchen.

"I was once here with Ivan," Alfred said. "It was in the winter. We had a snowball fight in the garden."

"Who won?" I asked and put the box down and huffed. I wasn't as strong as Alfred. He showed off a bit by holding the box for longer than necessary until his face was all red and he had to put it down.

He breathlessly choked: "I did, of course."

"You got frost-bites all over," his dad informed.

"Did not."

"Al, why don't you show Arthur where you'll be sleeping?" his mom asked and he lit up in a smile.

"Sure! Come." Alfred ran past me and climbed the stairs. I had to hurry not to be left behind, but my bag was heavy and it was slowing me down. As soon as I reached the top of the stairs, I put it down and rubbed my shoulder with a grimace.

Up here there were two rooms. One door was closed, but the other stood wide open and Alfred was standing in the doorway smiling at me. As I dropped my bag, he picked it up and brought it into the room. "We'll be sleeping in here," he said.

I walked over and looked in. It was a nice, big room and everything looked like in a hotel. There was a cupboard, two beds, some fake, plastic flowers in the corner and a big window facing the sky. I stepped in and looked towards the bed as Alfred placed my bag on one of them. "We'll be having this room all to ourselves?" I asked and felt a thrill go down my spine.

"Yea, my parents sleep in the one downstairs," Alfred said and smiled at me.

"Is it, uh, soundproof in here?"

"What, I don't know? Why?" Alfred asked, but as he started thinking about my question his eyes widened. "Oh…"

"Yeah," I said and nodded. My cheeks were a little red, but not as red as Alfred's. He looked almost sorry.

"I, uh, I am pretty tired tonight," he stuttered. "I am not sure if-"

"Fuck, Alfred, I didn't mean _tonight_ ," I said and then pushed the door closed behind me as I realised it was still open. Alfred blinked towards me.

"Oh?"

"I meant.. I am not even sure what I meant," I mumbled and suddenly felt stupid. "Just that we have two weeks together.." I fiddled around with my shirt and Alfred got up and walked over to me. He grabbed my hands and grinned coyly.

"I know, I've been thinking about that too," he said.

"You have?" He nodded. I smiled and stepped closer to him. "What have you been thinking?" I mumbled to his ear and I saw it turn red.

"Uh, stuff.." he stuttered. He let go of my hands and instead felt up my sides. I could feel how his fingertips were shaking a little and I felt bad for pushing him, but at the same time I just wanted for him to wrap his arms around me already and tell me everything he'd been thinking. I knew he wasn't shy and I couldn't possibly be the only one who'd been fantasizing at night. I just wondered what kind of fantasies Alfred had.

"Alfred!" someone called from downstairs. We let go of each other and I cleared my throat. "Come and help out!"

"We better-" Alfred said and gestured towards the door. I nodded.

"Right. This can wait." I took in a deep breath and watched Alfred's ass as he left the room. Then I slapped my cheeks. "Stop," I mumbled to myself, "you're not a pervert." But at that point in time I really wished Alfred had been one.

* * *

We all helped each other getting everything into the house. There was a lot to unpack and put away, and by the time we started cooking dinner, it was already eight in the evening. We were all pretty tired, but I tried to be helpful and chopped up salad and tomatoes, but I was soon told to leave the kitchen.

"It's not to be rude," Alfred's mom promised me, "but you're a worse cook than Alfred." I wasn't insulted. Looking at the splattered tomatoes I felt I'd already done plenty of damage, and I actually felt somewhat proud as I walked into the living room and told Alfred to go to the kitchen.

"Weren't you helping out?" Alfred asked me. He was watching telly together with his dad.

"Yeah, but I am not _womanly_ enough to do these kind of chores," I said, deliberately exaggerating the word 'womanly' in that sentence. Alfred huffed at me and left for the kitchen, and I took his seat in the sofa.

"It's going to be a great summer," his dad said and ruffled up my hair. I felt like part of the family as he did that.

"Yeah, it is," I said and nodded.

"You don't think two weeks with Alfred is going to be too much for you?" he asked and I laughed.

"I think I'll manage. We did bring painkillers, right?"

"I can hear you!" Alfred shouted from the kitchen. I corrected my hair and leaned back with a little smile.

"Thanks for having me here," I said. I got a smile in return.

"Don't worry about it."

So I didn't worry. I just relaxed. We had a quiet dinner and we all went to bed early. I slipped underneath my cold duvet and sighed pleased, and Alfred passed by my bed and pecked my lips. "Tomorrow we'll swim naked in the sea!" he said and I kicked him with a grin.

"You'll only find me wet and naked in the shower," I said.

"I'll find you in the shower?" Alfred teased and we both laughed until our heads hurt. I think we were overly tired and I don't even remember what else we chatted about that evening. I slept tight.

* * *

The following day was bright and sunny. Alfred and I wore trunks under our shorts and his mom packed a basket with food. We all headed for the beach.

"It's been long since I last went swimming," I said as we jogged barefooted across the warm asphalt. There was a silent competition between Alfred and I; the first one to put his sandals back on would loose.

"Ah?" Alfred said and watched his feet. His toes were burning red, but he didn't look bothered yet. His sandals were hanging around his right wrist and he was wearing some oversized sunglasses. He said they made him look like a rock star, but I thought he was just missing the guide dog to look like a blind man. "You do know how to, right?"

"Of course," I smiled. Swimming was pretty much the only kind of sport I ever tried out and liked. Football was the main sport in the village and no one ever thought about making a swimming team; we were far away from water and it would take a trip to town to go to a pool. It was simply too troublesome. But whenever Mom had brought me there, I'd been splashing around the water like a maniac. I loved diving and I was good at it. If we'd had the money I would probably have went there more often. "I'll swim faster than you," I warned Alfred.

"Ha!" he laughed mocking. "You're not faster than me at anything. Anything sporty anyway. You might be a better reader, though.."

I looked back at his parents, then threw my sandals at him and said: "Watch me!" I then started running down the hill and Alfred yelled at me.

"Come back! I am not carrying your sandals!" he shouted, but as I looked over my shoulder he came hurrying towards me with them in his left hand. I couldn't help but to laugh at him.

"You're too slow!" I taunted.

"Arthur, watch out!" I blinked, but as I turned around it was too late. I smashed face-first into a tall, broad man and dragged us both down.

A woman above us laughed and said: "Oh dear…"

"Are you okay?" Alfred had reached us. He dropped out sandals to the ground and grabbed me by the arm as I struggled to get up. I was red and embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry," I said to the man who got back up on his feet by himself. His wife had been the one laughing and she still was.

"It's alright," the man said and looked at me. He was chubby and well hairy, and he was only wearing his pants and a cap. He looked like a typical family father. "Did you hurt yourself?" he asked me and I shook my head.

"John," Alfred smiled. I looked at him confused until I realised he was speaking to the man. The man - John apparently - took off his cap and grinned.

"Alfred!" he said. "Are you here with your parents? Long time no see!"

"They're right there," Alfred said pointing a few metres back where the two of them were hurrying to get to us. Alfred's dad was one, big smile.

"John!" he said and the two men shook hands. "How great!" Then he turned to the lady and hugged her. "And you too, Carmen."

"They used to work together," Alfred explained to me and I nodded slowly. "We've sometimes gone on holiday together."

"That's right," John said and shook my hand as well. "You must be Arthur, right? Alfred has told me about you."

"He has?" I stuttered. Now Alfred was the one to look embarrassed.

"Uh, we were actually heading out," Alfred said quickly and John let go of my hand.

"Right, have fun."

"Fun! You know what would be fun?" Alfred's dad asked. "If we all had dinner together. How long are you staying?"

Alfred pushed my shoulder and we started walking across the sand towards the water, leaving his parents behind with their friends. "Awkward," Alfred said with a little grin.

"Mostly for me!" I said. "I ran into him."

"Ha ha! Yeah, it looked awesome."

"Shut up," I said and pushed him. Alfred looked back over his shoulder.

"I wonder where Tina is, though."

"Tina?" I asked.

"Their daughter. She's such a bother. Crazy about me," he said.

All I could think was: oh, then everything's as it has always been.

"Does it make you jealous?" Alfred asked and I gave him a lazy look.

"If you getting attention made me jealous, I would have a very hard time existing," I said and pulled off my shirt. Alfred bit his lower lip and watched me as I shrugged free of my shorts as well. I looked him up and down. "Aren't you getting in?"

"Yeah…" he said and then finally tugged at his shirt. "It's just funny. You always make it sound like I am, I don't know, a superman of some sort. But you're still the carefree one of us."

"How's that?" I asked. I wasn't the least convinced. Alfred pulled his shorts down and corrected his trunks.

"Well, you're the one who… whispers stuff and wants to do things at school, and just wore those odd outfits for long. As if you didn't care what others thought."

"What about it?" Alfred shrugged and started walking towards the water. I followed him. "Tell me."

"I don't know!" he said and looked at me. "It's cool, okay? I think you're well cool. Knowing yourself enough to be this relaxed about it." I felt dumb and happy at the same time getting such a compliment.

"Thanks," I just said.

"But you'll never get all the chicks like I do," Alfred added in and then hurried through the water. I laughed at his childish attitude and followed him.

We forgot all about the time and just played around in the water. Alfred turned out to be a faster swimmer than me, but he couldn't really dive and I took pride in that fact. As he dropped his glasses far out in the water, I felt good about having to be the one who went down and searched for them. I told him not to wear them while in the water. He told me to mind my own business. Then we had a water-fight. By the time we finally got back up on the sand, we were both sunburnt on our shoulders but in a good mood. We wrapped ourselves up in our towels, bought ice cream and sat down by the rocks to enjoy it while watching the waves.

"It feels odd," Alfred suddenly said. "Like, sitting here with you. After all that drama at school. It's like, I keep expecting for someone to just pop up from behind and bully us." He laughed and took a bite of his cone.

"Yeah," I said and stretched my legs. "I can't really understand it either."

"Now we're even invited to parties."

"Well, they don't know we're _together_ ," I reminded him.

"No, but they do know you're gay. And that we're good friends. I think that still counts for something." Alfred looked at me and I took a bite off of my ice cream and shivered. The cold tickled through my teeth.

"How do you think your parents will react? If you do tell them…" Alfred hummed at the question and looked away.

"I am not sure," he said. "I think it'll be okay. I mean, I did talk to Mom about being gay very long ago. Maybe she's suspecting something. Since we're this close again all of a sudden."

"I know my mom's suspecting plenty," I said. "But Dad is clueless."

"Aren't dads always?" Alfred asked with a little grin. But then his voice went back to being grave. "No, but really. I do want to tell them. I don't know when, but I don't want to go and hide for too long."

"So you're sure now?" I asked him.

"About what?"

"Your sexuality.." Alfred blinked and blushed. He took another bite off of his cone.

"Not really," he then said. "I don't know when I'll know for sure. It's all very messy. But we've been close for long. And now we're together. It just seems right to acknowledge that at least. Whatever I am."

"Daniel said something like that," I said.

"Who?"

"The guy from the club," I answered and Alfred grimaced.

"Oh.. What did he say?"

"That it's not always easy putting a label on yourself. But that it's okay."

"I don't know about Daniel," Alfred said and his voice was a bit harsh. I could tell he didn't like discussing the guy. "But I know that I like you and I think if anyone should know, my parents would be an obvious choice." I nodded and clapped his knee confirming. I thought that too.

Alfred put his arm around my shoulders and I leaned up against him. My ice cream was melting, but I wasn't really that keen on it. As Alfred had finished his own, he took over mine.

"How about your parents?" he asked.

"I wouldn't tell them," I said. "Not directly. I think if Mom figures it out and knows for sure, she won't say anything to Dad."

"And what if he figures it out too?" Alfred asked. I hesitated.

"I think he'll hate me," I whispered. I felt a lump block my throat as I'd said it out loud. I'd known for long; I've thought about it many times. But to actually tell someone that my Dad would probably not like me anymore was hard.

Alfred kissed my forehead. "When we leave high school, we can do anything we want to do."

"What do you want to do?" I asked.

"I want to move to a flat with you!" I looked up at him and was met by a bright grin. I knew he was trying to cheer me up by thinking happy thoughts and it was helping. I smiled as well.

"How romantic."

"You can be as gay as you want to be. You can put up rainbows everywhere and have porn on the shelf, and you can listen to whatever gay-hits you like."

"I don't really want any of that," I said and grimaced. "Where do you get that idea from? The internet?" I could tell from the look on his face that I was right.

"Gays in London do this," he said.

"They do?" I didn't really know. I had a vain idea that there had to be groups out there and we read about this so-called gay community as we searched around for information about gay sex. But it didn't really attract me. I tried being punk and show off my extreme sides, but it only awed a little group of people and scared all others away. I didn't want to scare people away. I just wanted to be Arthur Kirkland who happened to be gay. I scratched my neck and felt a bit surprised realising this.

"So you don't want to go to parades?" Alfred asked. I shook my head violently and he breathed out in relieve. "Good! I've read about those too. Walking around the streets for hours in a group of lesbian girls isn't really my idea of a fun day."

"I don't think you have to walk around with the lesbians," I laughed. Then I kissed his jaw. "Let's just stay the way we are, alright? I am fine with that."

And Alfred kissed me back and smiled: "So am I!"

* * *

Alfred's parents were also alright with us just being together. They gave Alfred the second house key so that we could come and go as we pleased. "Just always be there for dinner," his mom said. It wasn't really necessary to point out, though. Where there was free food, there was Alfred.

We were quite busy the first three days when everything was still new and exciting. We walked through town and had milkshakes at various places, and I even managed to drag Alfred through two galleries. All the art portrayed the beach, seagulls and waves, and even I got tired of it pretty quickly. Instead we bought matching caps and spent hours at the beach playing volleyball or swimming.

Alfred kept wanting to compete in everything and though we were supposedly relaxing, I was so tired by the end of the day that I could barely walk. My whole body would be aching and though I felt like cuddling up next to Alfred, I easily fell asleep in my own bed.

But it annoyed me. Surely we stole kisses when alone and we held hands when we knew his parents wouldn't see us, but I had started to feel tense again. Not even all the things we'd read online could stop me from getting hot and bothered whenever Alfred undressed in the room and stood watching himself in the mirror. He tanned easily and had gotten a nice, golden glow to his skin which I just craved to kiss all over. Meanwhile I had just gotten some red spots here and there. Most of my body was still pale. When I undressed, Alfred didn't really look at me and I couldn't help but to ponder if all the skin he saw every day on the beach was enough of a distraction for him.

The fourth morning my body was still hurting from the night before. We'd been helping Alfred's dad collecting branches and wood to lit a bonfire, and we'd roasted marshmallows and stuffed ourselves until Alfred literally bended over and puked. He'd been the first one to go to bed and I'd joined him shortly afterwards. He was still sleeping as I woke up and groggily glanced at the clock.

"Crap," I mumbled. It was one in the afternoon. I slowly sat up and glared at the blinds covering the big window. I could see some light in between the cracks, but it was keeping out most of it well and I hadn't been the least bothered though the day was almost over. It was very warm in the room and as I pushed the duvet off of me, I felt the sweat trickle down my back. I only shortly looked towards Alfred before I sneaked out and into the bathroom next door.

The tiles out there were cold. I brushed my teeth to get rid of my morning breath and patted some water underneath my armpits, but I couldn't be bothered to do much else. As I walked back into the room, I shortly glanced downstairs, but there was no one to see. I guessed his parents had left to walk through town as they'd talked about by the bonfire the night before.

As I walked back into the room and closed the door, Alfred started moving around. He peeked out from underneath the duvet and loudly yawned. "Morning," he mumbled.

"Afternoon," I said.

"Huh?"

"It's one o'clock." Alfred looked at the clock and then groaned.

"Man, those marshmallows must've knocked me out." I laughed and walked over to sit on the edge of his bed. He slowly rolled over to lie on his back. "I had the weirdest dream. About aliens made out of candy."

"Sounds common," I shrugged. Alfred ran his fingers through his hair and wiped his sweaty forehead off in his arm.

"Man, it's warm in here." I nodded and kept looking down at him. I could smell him from where I was sitting. He had a very distinct odour and I leaned closer as I took in a deep breath. Alfred raised his brows at me. "What are you doing?"

"Smelling," I said. Alfred stuck his nose deep into his own armpit and grimaced.

"Oh. Hey, what should we do today?"

I sighed: "I don't know."

"What about volley again? Man, I rocked yesterday!" Alfred proudly grinned and I grabbed around his duvet as I lifted it up and sneaked in underneath it. I moved in close to Alfred's warm, wet body and wrapped an arm around it.

"How about we just stay in for now?" I mumbled. Alfred took in a deep breath.

"Uh, in?" he asked. I smiled up at him and slowly let my fingertips tickle across his stomach and down to his boxers. I cupped him through them.

"Yes, _in_ ," I emphasized and Alfred gasped. He rolled his hips up towards me and I could feel the eagerness quickly spread through his body.

"Is that what you've been thinking about?" he asked me.

"Well, what have you been thinking about?" I returned the question and slowly let my fingers feel him up. I was lying partly on top of him now and I could feel as his muscles moved underneath me. I was looking into his blue eyes and he was gazing back at me curiously. He wasn't fully in charge now and he knew it, and I think he'd been waiting for a push like this from me.

"Uh, sexually?" he asked stupidly and I nodded. He slipped his fingertips through my hair and hummed as I let my hand slip down his boxers and grabbed firmly around his cock. "Hah, well… mhmm… about us jerking off…"

"Yeah?" I whispered encouragingly.

Alfred looked flustered: "Do you want me to talk dirty?"

"I just want you to tell me what's on your mind," I said and tried to sound patient. I started to let my hand slip up and down, and I moved a bit up to be able to kiss him shortly. Alfred opened his lips willingly and we shared a slow, wet kiss.

"You're on my mind," he finally mumbled.

"I've been thinking about fucking you," I said bluntly and I could feel his body stiffen underneath me. I swore underneath my breath. I didn't want for him to feel uncomfortable but turned on, so I changed my tactic. "And you fucking me," I said. "Fucking me a lot." It made him relax.

"Hah, yeah?" he mumbled. He closed his eyes and a little smile showed on his lips. "I've thought about that. About fucking," he said. He started to move his hips again and I could feel the blood running through him as I sucked on his Adam's apple.

"How 'bout blowing?" I mumbled and smiled as he moaned.

"Fuck yes, I've thought about blowing." I tightened my grip.

"Hot, isn't it?"

"I want you to suck me," he said.

"Yeah, I've thought about sucking," I said, but then Alfred opened his eyes and looked at me.

"N-no, I mean… I want you to suck me." I looked at him.

"Oh?"

"Now," he added.

" _Now_?" I repeated surprised and my hand stopped moving. Alfred's face reddened, but he didn't look away. He nodded.

"Only if you want to, but… Sucking is alright without lube. And it's not dangerous."

"It's not?" I mumbled and pulled my hand up from his boxers. I hadn't really read much about it, but it sounded like Alfred had actually taken the time to research the subject.

"Yes," he said. "It's very hard to do anything wrong when it's with the mouth." I touched my lips and felt my cheeks redden as well.

"Ah…" I didn't say anything else. Alfred shook his head.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

"No it's, uhm, it's cool," I promised. "I'm just surprised." I was. If I had expected either of us to take things further, it would've been me. But Alfred was now actually asking me to do something I'd never done and wasn't sure how to do. I almost worried I would feel sick again, but instead a warmth spread inside my stomach and I felt myself being turned on by the thought. That I was already well into what we were doing probably helped, but I just couldn't make myself say no. "Okay," I said after a while. "We can try."

"Great!" Alfred said and sat up straight. He started removing his boxers and I watched his hard cock as it slipped out. It smelled like the rest of him and I cleared my throat.

"Could you maybe, eh…" Alfred looked at me and I stuttered: "Go and… wash it first."

"I showered yesterday," Alfred said as if it would help the situation.

"You still smell," I said. As Alfred still didn't move, I added: "Did you want the blow or not?" and that made him jump out of the bed and head for the bathroom.

I sat waiting underneath the duvet while I could hear him running the water. My hands were resting in my lap and I could see how they were shaking lightly. I wasn't scared, but I was worried if I would do something wrong. I could harm him and possibly turn him off from sex.

"Don't be stupid," I mumbled. "Alfred could never not want sex." But logic didn't work in the given situation.

As Alfred came back he sat down on the edge of the bed and almost proudly showed me his washed cock. I'd somewhat expected him to shower, but he'd washed his cock only. "Is that alright?" he asked and I nodded.

"Could you, um, get on the bed so that I don't have to kneel?" Alfred lied down and looked at me with excited eyes. I slowly positioned myself between his legs and looked down at his cock. "If I do something wrong-"

"I'll tell you," Alfred quickly finished my sentence. "It's fine."

"Okay…" And with that I leaned in and started licking.

Everyone talks about blowjobs. The girls in my class always made it sound like science and one of them had once described it as eating a banana without swallowing. Thinking back it all sounded so stupid to me and I realised that neither of them had probably ever tried it. With my lips wrapped around Alfred I could tell that it was nothing like eating, licking or even holding a fruit. He was very much alive in my hand; I could feel the blood pulsating through the veins, taste salt and soap, and smell him though he'd been washing himself. I didn't even attempt to take in much of him; he was too big and it seemed like a bother, and he reacted strongly to simple licking anyway.

He got my blood boiling. Alfred was moaning and groaning, and he kept looking down at me with such a horny look in his eyes that I wanted to run and hide. I didn't feel uncomfortable, I just felt very exposed. "Ouch," he suddenly huffed.

"Sorry," I mumbled and blushed.

"Just no teeth."

"I didn't use my teeth," I said.

"Then no nails or whatever." I noticed my fingertips had been playing around with the hair by his balls and I pulled my hand back.

"Right. Sorry." I went back to licking and sucking at the head, and Alfred lied back down. I was in an odd position myself. The bed wasn't very long and I had to kneel to have space. My neck was bended and after a few minutes it started hurting. Though Alfred was hard, I could tell he wasn't ready to come yet, but I was starting to feel stupid. I had spit clinging onto my chin because Alfred kept tugging at my hair to have me continue when I wanted to swallow, and though I slapped his hand away again and again, it just kept coming back. He had a control need and I was getting tired. As I straightened up, he almost whined.

"No more?" he asked and I wiped my lips off in my arm.

"My mouth's hurting," I said and noticed some blood. "Has my lip cracked open?"

"Just a little," Alfred mumbled.

"Fuck."

"Arthur?" I looked back down at him and he desperately gestured to his cock. I quickly grabbed around it and lied down on top of him as he wrapped his arms around me. I started to jerk him off quickly.

"Did you like it?" I mumbled and he groaned.

"I just wanted to push myself deep into your mouth," he huffed back at me and I buried my head into his pillow. I felt like laughing, because it sounded like such a porn-line, but at the same time it made my cock twitch. As Alfred groaned and came in my hand, my cock was rock-hard and dripping. "Fuck…" Alfred whispered and his hips jerked a bit. Then he relaxed. "Fuck, that was good.." I slowly looked back up. Our bodies were sticking together with sweat.

"Good?" I repeated and Alfred ran his fingers through my hair with a little grin.

"A little awkward maybe, but good," he nodded. I couldn't help but to huff.

"How, awkward? You didn't exactly guide me."

"I didn't mean it as an insult," Alfred groaned and I quieted. Instead I lifted my hand.

"Do you have a napkin?" I asked.

"Uh…"

"…I'll just be in the bathroom." I slipped out of bed and out into the bathroom where I washed my hands off. I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed a hair on my chin. I quickly turned the water up on full blast and started washing my face and mouth.

I'd just sucked off Alfred. I felt as if I could shine.

As I returned to the room, Alfred was looking up at the ceiling with a satisfied look on his face. I grabbed my pillow on the way and plopped it down onto his face, and he laughed and ripped it off. "Come here," he said warmly and dragged me into a wet kiss as his hand fumbled for my cock. He didn't use his mouth, but he gave me the most concentrated hand job he'd ever given me and we lied for long just dozing off wrapped tightly in the duvet.

"Do you want me to blow you?" he suddenly asked and I looked at him oddly.

"Now?" I asked. "I don't think I can get hard already."

"No, not now. At some point. Maybe while we're here." I smiled a bit.

"Well, I would like to try…"

"How about fingering?" I bit my lower lip.

"We would need lube…"

"But you would like to try it?" Alfred pressed on. I sighed. "Okay, sorry."

"Well, I don't know. Yeah. I think I would. If you were careful," I said and looked up at him. "Would you want to try it?"

Alfred looked like he'd choked on something as he spluttered: "Me? No!"

"Why not?" Alfred seemed like he didn't really want to discuss the matter, but I kept looking at him.

"Well… it might hurt!"

"But you'll do it to me anyway? Thanks.." I rolled my eyes.

"Hey, I am making a sacrifice. I am putting my fingers up your ass," Alfred said. We looked at each other. Then we burst out laughing.

"Gross!" I shivered.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Alfred said and smiled. Then we heard a slam as the front door was opened.

"Alfred? Arthur! We brought lunch!" his dad shouted. We both rolled out of bed and hurried to get dressed. Alfred forgot to put on underwear and I couldn't find my socks, but as we bounced downstairs we were both one, big grin.

"Oh, it looks like you had a fun day," his mom said and I blushed.

"We did," Alfred nodded. I elbowed him and we both grinned again.

* * *

The next two days it rained. We spent a lot of time inside playing games in the living room, but it quickly became boring. Alfred's dad suggested that we all went on a field trip to just see the landscape, but neither of us were really excited about the idea. In the end his parents went by themselves while we sat in the living room watching a movie.

"Hey," Alfred suddenly said. "What happened to that note Scott gave you?" I'd told him about it the same day I got it. I took a sip of my coke.

"I didn't get around replying to it yet," I said. "I will when we come back. He does know I'm away."

"Do you think he's forgiven you?" I shrugged.

"I don't know. He did write he was sorry."

"It must suck," Alfred pondered, "to find out that your boyfriend is cheating on you."

"I bet he didn't even have anyone to talk to," I said and almost felt sorry for him. I hadn't thought about him for a while and I'd somewhat put the whole incident behind me. But now I remembered the day he found out. I remembered Alfred and him fighting. "He must've felt lonely."

"Yeah, I know how that is," Alfred said. I looked at him and raised my brows.

"Really now?"

"Don't give me that look," he said. "It's easy for you to say that being gay is hard. But liking another guy while being with a girl is just as hard." I crossed my arms.

"I can't see that," I said and I almost felt a bit insulted. Alfred scratched his neck annoyed.

"Well, at least you could talk to Scott about it. And go to that poetry place where you fitted in. I mean, I like my mates, no question about that. But we don't talk about that kind of stuff." I slowly uncrossed my arms.

"Who have you ever talked to about all this?" I asked.

"No one," Alfred answered and I actually pitied him in that moment. I looked back towards the telly and took in a deep breath.

"Some things are best figured out on your own," I said.

"Maybe," Alfred answered, but he didn't sound so sure. I wasn't sure either, but I knew I wasn't the right one for Alfred to discuss this with. I could easily convince him into believing he was something he was not, and I didn't want to risk that. Right now he was on his own.

* * *

As the weather got better again, we walked into town to look at souvenirs. I knew Mom wanted for me to bring her something and I just wanted to buy a thing to get it over with. I looked at silly fridge magnets and ugly postcards before deciding on a box of local fudge. At least she would actually enjoy that, I reasoned.

Afterwards we had a cup of hot chocolate at a café. We sat sipping it while watching the supermarket across the street. "Maybe we should buy some snacks for tonight," Alfred suggested.

"Like what, crisps?" I asked and he nodded.

"Maybe." I had another sip of my cup.

"What was it your dad told you, by the way? This morning…" I looked over at Alfred and he seemed to have difficulties remembering.

"Eh, this morning?"

"He called you into the kitchen as we were leaving."

"Oh! Right." Alfred grimaced. It was a forced disgust, but it was there. "He said he invited John, Carmen and Tina over to dine with us Saturday."

"Wait, tomorrow?" Alfred nodded. "Okay," I said and shrugged.

"She'll be all over me," Alfred warned. "She always is. I hate that girl." I smiled a little.

"The more you say you hate her, the more it sounds like you can't wait to see her," I teased him. Alfred blushed. I couldn't quite figure out if he was honestly warning me or just trying to make me jealous, but he shut up about it either way. Instead he started playing around with his napkin as his cup was empty.

"You know what else we could buy in the supermarket?" Alfred asked me. I shook my head and he said: "Lube!"

I almost choked on my chocolate: "Alfred!" I looked around. No one was was looking at us. Then I turned back to him. "Are you serious?"

"Not really," he said. "I don't have the money."

"Is it expensive?"

"I don't know.."

"Hmm.." I emptied my cup and licked my lips. "Maybe we do have the money."

Alfred raised his brows at me: "How?" I reached into the pocket of my jeans and withdrew the note Mom had handed me. I showed it to Alfred and he lit up. "Where do you have that from?"

"Mom kept nagging me about giving your parents money, but I know they won't be taking it. So we can spend it," I said.

"Great!" Alfred chirped excited. "That should be plenty for lube."

"But _you're_ going to buy it," I said. Alfred's eyes widened.

"Me? Alone?" I nodded. "Ah, come on Arthur…"

"Nope," I said and shook my head as I handed him the bill. "If you want to try it, you go and buy it." I was well proud of my little rhyme, but Alfred didn't look impressed. He just took the money with a frown.

"Fine, I am no _sissy_ ," he said. But he surely didn't look very manly either as we got back outside and he had to head for the supermarket alone.

I waited for him by the entrance. Five minutes passed by with no sign of him and as ten minutes had passed, I peeked inside. I spotted Alfred standing by the till with a confused look in his eyes as he was shown three different kinds of lube. It was painful to watch him pick them up and read on them, put them back down and ask more questions which I couldn't hear from where I was standing. I knew he was just doing his best, but I just wanted for him to pick a random one and get out of there. He was making a line and people were watching him openly. It wasn't until he noticed that he quickly chose the middle one, paid for it and hurried back outside. We didn't even look at each other. We just started walking home side by side, Alfred with the lube half-hidden in his pocket. He'd been in such a hurry that he forgot to take a bag.

"Why did it take so long?" I asked him.

"There were all sorts of lube," Alfred replied. "I didn't know which to pick!"

"Which did you pick?" I asked and he handed me the bottle. 'Tingling sensation' it read. I tried to imagine being tickled down there and shook my head. "Alright." I handed it back to him.

"Do you think it'll be fine?" he asked and I nodded.

"I think it'll be okay." But I honestly didn't know. I feared that now we had what was needed, Alfred would want for us to try it right away, but he didn't suggest anything that evening. To my own surprise it disappointed me a little that the didn't press on more. Instead we cuddled up in his bed and slowly jerked each other off as we were drifting into sleep. As I dozed off I still had my fingers wrapped around his cock and I pondered about how it was all going to work out.

* * *

The next day we all got busy. Alfred's mom wanted the house to sparkle before the guests arrived and she knocked on our door early in the morning to get us help her out. I almost jumped as I heard her outside the door. I'd fallen asleep naked in Alfred's embrace and I surely didn't want for her to find us like this. Luckily she never went in. She just told us to get dressed, eat breakfast and then start vacuuming everywhere.

I quickly got dressed, but Alfred was still in bed by the time I was ready to eat. He moaned, rolled around and complained loudly about life being unfair. "I am tired," he said. I kicked him out of bed and told him to man up. "Jeez," he said. "Show some compassion."

"Show some willpower," I answered. "Get up and get working. Or your mom will come running in here and find you naked on the floor." Alfred moaned some more, but he pulled himself together and got dressed. I suppose even he didn't want for her to see anything.

Everyone was put to work. Alfred's dad mowed the lawn, his mom cleaned the kitchen and started preparing the dinner, and Alfred and I vacuumed all over the house and took out the trash. Alfred kept saying it was a waste of time and that no one would notice anything anyway, but his mom disagreed.

"Carmen likes a clean home," she said. "I am not going to let her brag about her nice floors when she sees this place. It'll be smelling of soap."

By the time we finished we were the only ones not smelling very nicely. We all took turns showering; Alfred's parents first, then him and I came in last. By the time I was done, it was already late in the afternoon.

"Sorry about this day," Alfred said to me as we sat down in the living room.

"It's alright," I said. "My mom sometimes goes nuts as well."

"It's not about being nuts," she said as she strolled past us, and I blushed deeply. I didn't know she had been listening. "I just want for our guests to feel at home." Alfred rolled his eyes. I snickered. Moments later the bell rang.

"Welcome to our wonderful house!" Alfred's dad roared from the hallway.

"It's not your house, it's rented!" John said and they both laughed. Alfred and I got up. I could hear his mom and Carmen exchange formalities and they praised each other's hair. "And Tina," Alfred's mom chirped. "You've grown to be a fine, young woman!" I couldn't hear what she answered, but it sounded sweet. Still Alfred just gave me a bored look.

As Tina entered the living room, though, I could tell why she'd been complimented. She was tall, blond and with a kind smile. She looked to be a bit older than us, but at most a year. She was dressed in a nice, summery dress.

Alfred turned to her as if he was going to get attacked. "Hey, Tina," he said and she just nodded to him.

"Hello Alfred. It's been long," she said and then she looked over at me with curious eyes.

"Oh, I'm Arthur," I said and stepped forward to shake her hand. She smiled and gave my hand a squeeze.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Tina."

"He knows," Alfred said.

"Dad has told me you go to the same school as Alfred?" I nodded. "What classes do you take?"

"I'm mostly focused on art," I said and she lit up.

"Really? I had art as well! I just got so bored of all the alternative sculptures we had to do," she said. I blinked.

"That's a first - I am as well, but no one else seems to be complaining." Tina smiled.

"Great to meet someone else who feels the same way," she said and I nodded.

"It is." Alfred just looked between us as if he couldn't understand what was going on. He cleared his throat.

"I am still on the football-team," he informed awkwardly.

"Oh?" Tina just said uninterested and I felt like laughing. The surprised look on Alfred's face was priceless as she just turned back to look at me. "I want to know more. We must sit next to each other at dinner."

"That would be great," I just said. Meanwhile Alfred looked like he could explode, but as the others entered the room as well, he couldn't really say anything. Instead he just sat down by the table with a sour look on his face.

* * *

Tina didn't show the least interest in Alfred for the whole evening. Rather it was hard for her to take her eyes off of me and it was such an unusual thing to happen that I couldn't help but to enjoy my moment in the spotlight. Alfred constantly tried to chat her up or get me to join him outside or upstairs, but I politely turned him down and retuned to chatting with Tina.

She'd been studying art in high school as well, but had now moved onto university where she took classes in English literature. I'd thought about doing the same and asked her about it, and she smiled sweetly and said that "you can just have my number - then you can call me and ask anything you want to." I was aware of her intentions. As she had to leave, she handed me her number and placed a big kiss on my cheek.

"Bye," I just mumbled and waved at them. Alfred quickly disappeared upstairs as they'd left and closed the door to our room.

"Alfred!" his mom called. "Come and help with the dishes!" He didn't answer. I put the little note with her number in my pocket.

"I can help out," I offered, but she just shook her head.

"What is he so upset about?" she asked me. I smiled wryly. Of course I knew what was bothering him, but I didn't let her know.

"He's just been having a headache all day," I said and she accepted my explanation. As she went back to the kitchen, I walked upstairs and into the room.

Alfred was lying on his bed. As I entered the room he shortly looked over at me, but then he rolled to have his back facing me. I sighed and closed the door behind me. "Acting like a kid, are we now?" I asked.

"Go away," he said. I walked over and sat down on the edge of my own bed as I looked at him.

"Can't you take that someone else is the centre of attention for once?"

"Of course," he said. "I don't care if no one notices me." There was a harsh self-pity to his voice.

"Oh, shut up Al," I said. He rolled over and looked at me. I had my brows raised. "Don't you think I know what's going on? You thought she would be all over you like all girls are. But she liked me better. It rarely happens, but it does and will happen once in a while. Grow up." Alfred looked stunned at my harsh words and he gazed up into the ceiling.

"It's not that she likes you-" he said.

"Then what?" I interrupted him.

"It's that you liked her so much." I gawked.

"You of all people should know that I am not into girls," I said.

"I know that. You're super gay," Alfred said. I shrugged.

"Then what is the problem?"

"Maybe I can get jealous anyway!" I rolled my eyes.

"That's not logical."

"Okay," Alfred said. "Fuck me, I am not logical." I looked at him. Then I looked down and sighed. I know I should've been annoyed, but his honest words made my heart melt a bit.

"Is that it?" I asked. "You're jealous?" He didn't answer and I think he was sorry he ever said that word, but I knew it was true. I got up, pulled out the number Tina had given me and handed it to him. He looked at it shortly.

"She doesn't want for me to call her," he said.

"I know. And I don't expect you to. But if you really think that I am going to call her," I said and held the note closer to his face, "then take the number." He looked up at me and then, after a moment of hesitation, he pushed my hand away.

"I don't think you will.." he mumbled.

"Good," I said and let go of my breath relieved. I tore the note apart and dropped the bits to the floor before climbing into bed with him. "Because I am not."

"…sorry," Alfred mumbled.

"Well, now you have an idea of how it feels," I said and smiled a bit as I settled on top of him. Alfred ran his fingers down my back and tugged at my shirt. "Though this is probably a hell of an experience for your ego."

"Shut up," he said, but now he was smiling a bit as well and I laughed lightly. I pecked his nose, then his lips and then he dragged me down into a real kiss. His tongue darted out and licked across my lips, and I opened up for it and moaned as he rubbed up against me. The cold, rainy weather outside had made the room chilly, but this close to Alfred I felt warm. I reached down and dragged the duvet up over us as we started feeling each other up.

"I really just want you," I mumbled as I got a moment to breathe and Alfred smiled at me as if I was something precious. I licked my lips and gave him a long look before I slipped down his body and started opening his pants. He looked down at me excited.

"Are you going to-"

"Yep."

"Oh boy…" Alfred leaned back and I laughed at his smile as I dragged off his pants and underwear. "You don't want me to go wash myself again, do you?" he asked and I shook my head.

"It'll be okay. You haven't been sweating. Much." He ruffled my hair lovingly and I grabbed around his cock and gave it a few jerks. I looked up at him. "I just want you to remember that I am gay." I leaned in and closed my lips around his cock-head, and he shivered lightly.

"Oh, I think I know," he mumbled. Then I started sucking. I held his cock by the base as I licked it, nibbled at the fat vein, sucked around the head and tugged at his balls. I felt it throb and grow between my fingers as I worked my way around it and this time I took my time though my neck started hurting again and everything shined with spit. I just had a feeling that Alfred needed this and not just for the sex; I could tell from the look on his face. His thin lips were stretched in a fine line, his brows were wrinkled and he often closed his eyes to take in a deep breath. It was sexy to look at and it went straight to my cock. I felt as if I was doing everything right, but as his balls had started to tighten and I thought he was close to coming, he suddenly pushed my head away.

"Stop," he whispered and I looked up at him confused.

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked and she shook his head. "Then what?" Alfred sat up in bed and I felt odd as he gestured for me to get back up in eye-level with him. The cock was still throbbing in my hand as he pecked my lips shortly.

"I want to try," he said.

"What?" Alfred grabbed me around the shoulders as he turned our positions around; he pushed me back onto the bed and slipped down my body as he started opening my jeans. I glared up at the ceiling. Then I realised what he was about to do. "Uh, are you sure?" I asked and looked down at him, and I felt a thrill go down my spine as I saw him kneeling between my spread legs. He pulled my jeans and underwear down and nodded.

"I want to try."

"Should I-" He shook his head.

"It's fine. Just lie down and relax," he said. I felt my heart starting to race and the palms of my hand got sweaty. I couldn't simply lie down; I had to watch him. I could tell it got him a little embarrassed and his cheeks brightened, but still it didn't stop him from leaning in and closing his lips around my cock. I felt my mouth go dry.

One thing had been sucking off Alfred, it was something completely different to get sucked. Surely I'd noticed his face when I worked on him, but mostly I'd been concentrating on doing it right and having him making sounds. It was probably because I was nervous and wanted to make the first time good, but suddenly being given the chance to just relax and let him work for me was odd and pleasant at the same time.

Alfred had a concentrated look in his eyes as he started licking across my head and working on my slit. I grabbed around the sheets as I didn't know what else to hold on to and just watched him. He was holding firmly onto my cock as he started working his way up and down the shaft, and to see his shining, blue eyes and squared, handsome face bobbing up and down along with that wet tongue of his was just too much for me. I moaned and felt my body jerk underneath him, and my hips unwillingly buckled as I tried to get more into his mouth. Alfred smiled. At least I think he did. Then I closed my eyes and just concentrated on the feeling.

We were both 17 years old. We'd wanted each other for long, but to actually do these things took courage and I knew it was especially difficult for Alfred. At least I had some experience with guys, but he'd only ever been with girls, but still he was there sucking the cock of someone who had been his best friend for years. I felt pathetic; I almost wanted to thank him, but it would seem odd to do that with my cock-head engulfed in his mouth. So instead I just moaned, wriggled and laid back as he jerked me into an orgasm. He licked his fingers afterwards.

"Gross," he mumbled and I laughed breathless. I waved him closer all sweaty and lazy.

"You need to come as well," I said and Alfred looked at me amused.

"I already did," he said.

"What?" I wrinkled my brows. "When?"

"While blowing you," he said as if it was pure logical. I looked down; his cock surely wasn't hard anymore and I felt myself blushing.

"Oh…" Alfred laughed and wiped his hands off in his own shirt before taking it off and dropping it to the floor. He lied down next to me and we looked at each other.

"It was good," I said. "You're good for a first timer."

"I've studied porn," Alfred said and I snickered.

"I need to try doing that."

"Yeah. Yeah, but for now you're all good," he said and took my hand. We fell asleep like that, holding hands and facing each other.

I didn't know it at that time, but that was going to be one of our last nights of hiding away from the world. Because Alfred had plans and they involved me; he just hadn't told me about them.

* * *

The rain didn't stop. For the next two days it poured down and once again we were all trapped in the living room with board games and the telly.

"We only have five days left anyway," Alfred's mom said as if it was nothing. "Maybe we should just go back home."

"You never know," Alfred said. "It might clear up tomorrow." But the weather forecast wasn't bright either. It promised us rain for the rest of the week and as we heard that, we all looked at each other hopelessly. The decision was made over dinner on the third day of raining.

"We're going home tomorrow after lunch," Alfred's dad decided and no one protested. At least at home we would have our things around us to entertain ourselves with. Still I wasn't happy about going back just yet.

I knew I could visit Alfred for the rest of the summer, but the last few days had been so intense that the thought of being away from him and having to sleep in my bed alone seemed strangely scary. Alfred didn't look too happy either. After dinner we packed our things quietly and I tried chatting him up, but he just looked out the window with a distant look in his eyes. It was as if he was listening to me, but at the same time not registering the words I was saying.

We went down to have coffee together with his parents. They'd put out biscuits and candy, and we sat around the coffee table while discussing the weather and how to make it home without it taking nine hours again. Alfred didn't say anything. I'd started to worry about him. He was just dunking his biscuit into his cup of coffee while watching the floor. But then he suddenly cleared his throat and stood up.

"I have something to say," he said and we all looked up at him. The rain was hammering to the window and for a moment that was the only sound we could hear echoing through the house. Alfred was nervously rubbing his hands together and he cleared his throat at least three times in a row. "Well…"

"What is it?" his mom asked and as he looked at me, I felt as if all air had been punched out of me. I just instantly knew what he was going to say and I felt the small hairs on my body raise.

"Um, we've talked about it before, but it's now really official," Alfred said and looked back at his parents. I noticed how his mom's eyes widened a bit. I bet she feared the worst.

"Alfred," she said.

"I like boys," Alfred said. "Or well, I like a boy. I like Arthur." He gestured towards me and I felt my face go completely red. Alfred's dad looked at me and then back up at his son.

"What is this supposed to mean?" he asked. Alfred was shaking a little, but he tried to look casual.

"We're together. As boyfriends. And I think you should know that. It's… been going on for a while now, so it's not just a fling or whatever. Yea. And you should know that. We're an item." He was picking his words carefully. They sounded random, but I knew he just wanted for it all to sound natural and uninteresting. As he sat back down, I reached over and squeezed his hand underneath the table. His grip was tight.

"Ah, well…" Alfred's mom said and looked over at her husband. He looked at her as well and nodded. "Well, it's as you suspected." She laughed lightly, but I could tell she was still shocked. To my surprise Alfred's dad looked more calm than her.

"You did talk to us about this. Some time ago," he nodded and scratched his chin. "Well, your mom didn't really think it was true, but… Well, we're men. We just know when it's there or not. The, eh, sexuality. Gayness." He was looking for the right words. I looked at Alfred who was staring at his own dad with big, surprised eyes. I could tell that if he'd expected support, it was from anyone but him.

"You're not mad?" Alfred whispered and his mom quickly shook her head.

"Dear God, Alfred. We have better things to be mad about." Alfred looked confused and she explained: "Well, not as in _right now_. But we're certainly not angry with you. You let us know long ago," she said and took his other hand between her own. "It's just always a shock to actually hear it being said like this."

"But that it's with Arthur, eh, with you," his dad said and looked at me acknowledging. I felt myself go warm from his gaze. "That's only good. A good guy. Eh, yes." He nodded at me and I had to smile.

"Thank you…" I said.

"Yeah, thanks," Alfred smiled and looked at me, but his mom just shook her head.

"This is nothing to be thankful about. That's just how it should be. Parents should accept their children," she said. It sounded rehearsed and I shortly imagined her wandering back and forth in front of her bathroom mirror as she prepared herself for this day. Arthur's dad, however, didn't seem to have prepared a single thing. He had a lot he wanted to say, but he didn't know how to.

"I had a gay friend once, and he wasn't the slightest perverted," he said and Alfred's mom smacked him.

"Of course not! That has nothing to do with anything."

"Well, I am just saying…" I looked towards Alfred. He had tears in his eyes and a vain smile on his lips. I could now understand why he'd been so distant recently.

"How long have you been together?" Alfred's mom finally asked and Alfred took in a shaken breath. I could tell he was trying not to sob, so I took over.

"For a few months," I said to make it sound more grave. It would be hard to explain everything that had been going on since childhood and somehow I felt they could guess it themselves.

"And do your parents know, Arthur?" she asked. My smile stiffened and I slowly shook my head.

"Um, no. And I would prefer if they didn't find out."

"Is it that bad?" Alfred's dad asked.

"I just can't risk anything," I said. "I hope you understand.."

"Of course," Alfred's mom said. Then she looked back at Alfred. He stumbled to his feet and leaned in to hug her. She smiled lovingly and hugged him back. "Oh Alfie. We'll always love you," she said and his dad awkwardly got up and patted his shoulder.

"Of course we will."

I sat there watching it and I felt so thrilled and sad at the same time that I hardly knew how to deal with the emotions. I was happy for Alfred, I really was; he'd taken a step towards accepting who he was and who we were, and he'd even managed to let his parents know now. We wouldn't have to watch our words and be quiet around them anymore. They would understand now.

But at the same time my heart clenched painfully, because I knew that the chance of me having such a happy ending with my family was pretty much nonexistent. At most I could see my mom telling me that she loved me, but Dad would not pat my shoulder or smile at Alfred the way his dad had smiled at me. Rather he would show me the door.

It just seemed unfair that I had been the one to struggle and still I wouldn't get anything in the end but tears. And here Alfred was standing after very little obstacles and he was being hugged and loved. It almost made me tear up, but I kept smiling.

This evening wasn't about me. It was about Alfred and he shun brightly as we walked upstairs and into our room.

"I just came out to my parents," he whispered to me and I closed the door behind us. He wrapped his arms around me and covered my face with kisses.

"I know," I laughed. "You little faggot." I pinched his cheeks lovingly and he kissed me softly on the lips.

"You're not mad I didn't tell you, are you?" he asked and I shook my head.

"It was your decision... It just came sudden," I admitted.

"I can't believe it went that smoothly. I delivered those news just right," he said braggingly.

"And you're lucky to have such accepting parents," I said.

"Yeah, that too. But man, we're out. We're out to them!" He grabbed my hands and started dancing with me, and I laughed and wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Shush, don't make them think they've got an insane gay son," I said and he smiled wryly.

"Why, they seemed to be quite happy with this insane man's choice in boyfriends." He patted my hair and I leaned into his touch.

"It's probably because they know me well," I said.

"Nah," he shook his head. "It's because you're lovable."

I did feel loved. Alfred's parents had said that they would like a longer chat with Alfred about it all, but it didn't sound frightening in any way. As we were about to get ready for bed, we listened by the door and heard them chatting in the living room. We heard them talk about the future, about grandchildren and about getting a family. But most of all they talked about how happy Alfred had looked.

"We got a son to see him grow up happy," Alfred's dad said. "I think we did that. Now, don't think too much about it." I smiled at Alfred and he grinned brightly at me as we heard that. I think he felt so relieved he could've flied across the night sky and not even let the rain bring him down to Earth.

* * *

The next day we packed the car and drove off in a good mood. Alfred's parents were so clearly desperate to say and do the right thing, and his dad even made sure that we knew that 'holding hands is allowed'. We didn't do that, though. I think we were both too shy to show that kind of affection in front of them, but I was told one thing that made me smile brightly and honestly. After an hour drive Alfred's mom turned around in her seat and looked at me.

"You're of course not going back home yet," she said. "We promised you two weeks of vacation and you're getting that. I suppose you'll be sleeping over in Alfred's room for the next few days?"

I could only nod. Of course I was with such a nice invitation. Alfred grinned at me and clapped to the pocket of his jacket. As I looked closer I could see the top of the lube stick up and I reddened deeply. Alfred surely had plans. And it seems he'd stopped discussing them with me beforehand, I could only look forward to them.

And I was excitedly anticipating this one.


	26. 26

Alfred was handsome and he knew it. He was tall, tanned and muscular, the hair on his legs was blond and curly and the smile on his lips bright. I know I should've gotten used to all this by then considering how we grew up together, had showered together at school and seen each other naked on plenty of occasions, but he still managed to thrill me whenever he took off his shirt and flexed his arms or stretched his fingertips deep into his boxers to fondle at his balls. He did it all so relaxed as if there was nothing to it but still, whenever he complained about the heat and stripped down in front of me, he eyed me with such an intense stare that I couldn't do anything but to believe he knew I was watching and that he wanted just that of me. That he made sure our bottle of lube was always within reach when making out in bed didn't lower my suspicion. Alfred was just as horny as me but he just didn't have the guts to say it out loud. For two days we suffered in silence as we kissed, fondled and slowly jerked each other off waiting for the other to suggest the next move. But then it all became too much for Alfred to handle.

The heat was horrible and I showered twice a day not to reek like Alfred who stubbornly let the sweat-patches underneath his arms be while playing video-games in his room. It was too warm to do anything active and instead we'd opened his window and stripped down to boxers and tees while playing on his nintendo. I'd left him in the middle of a game to go wash the sweat off of my red face but as I returned minutes later I found the telly turned off and Alfred sitting fiddling with the bottle while reading the text on its backside. I stopped in the doorway to his room as I just watched him for a moment. I was in my white briefs and a grey undershirt borrowed from Alfred. The fabric was sticking to the thin layer of sweat which had formed on my back and it had started to itch, but I didn't move to scratch it until Alfred looked up and found me staring. He flustered lost hold of the bottle which dropped to the floor and rolled underneath the bed.

"Fuck.." Alfred scrambled onto all fours as he hurried to reach for it and I stepped in and locked the door behind me.

"What were you doing?" I asked.

His reply was quick: "Nothing!"

"Hmm..." I ran my fingers through my hair. My fringe had gotten a bit wet as I smashed a cloth to my forehead and I squeezed the locks for water while just waiting for Alfred to pop back up. He seemed to have troubles finding the bottle but then finally stood back up with it between his hands. He was dusting it off with a grimace.

"Gross."

"That'll teach you to clean. Seriously though, I thought you were about to win?" Alfred shrugged awkwardly and I eyed his groin. He too was only wearing a tee and some worn boxers, but though they were made out of a rather loose silky fabric, I could clearly see the bulge in them. He'd been touching himself but now he tried to awkwardly cover up by holding the lube in front of him while slowly sitting down on the edge of the bed. He was still watching me. I glanced towards the open window and then walked over to sit down next to him. "Were you jerking off?" I asked as carelessly as possible while leaning a bit back.

"No."

"Yes you were." Alfred glanced at me and I smiled a little. I reached out for the bottle and he handed it to me. I turned it and watched the 'How to use' description without really reading it.

"Would you like to try it?" he asked and before I got to answer, he leaned in and pointed to a sentence: "Look. It says for vaginal and anal use."

"I know," I said a bit flustered. Alfred kept staring at me intensely as if he expected some sort of reaction from me but then finally he sighed and ran his fingers through his messy hair. He grimaced as he shrugged:

"You know, we don't have to if you don't wanna. I just thought, I don't know, it would be nice. I mean, it is the next step, isn't it?"

"It's not that I don't want to," I quickly defended myself, "but you're the one who was all excited about getting lube and still you haven't suggested anything since we got it." I raised my brows at him. Alfred kept grimacing. Slowly his lips relaxed, though, and he looked away shyly.

"I didn't want to pressure you or anything," he assured.

I smiled wryly: "You're not. I am a guy, Al. I can say yes and no as well as you can."

"Yeah," he said and finally looked back at me and we both smiled at each other. His cheeks had darkened in colour and he seemed like an excited schoolboy rather than a boyfriend my age. He took the lube from my hands and looked at it again. I could tell he was carefully reading the descriptions over and over again, and I dragged my legs onto the bed and swung my arms around them while watching him.

It seemed somewhat funny to me that Alfred was so hesitant when it came to sex. He had always been the daredevil and the loudmouth who didn't seem to hold back with anything, but though he could be suggestive and horny, and though he sometimes whispered dirty things in my ear and touched me unprovoked, he was still very insecure about it all. It seemed like he wanted to do it _right_ , and it had to be _right_ in the first try. It made me wonder what kind of experiences he'd had with girls earlier. Did he pressure them too much or did they pressure him?

"Right," Alfred said suddenly and I snapped back to reality. I blinked at him as he straightened up. "Right. Alright. So should we, uh, should we do it?" he asked and waved with the bottle. "Should we try it out?" His dimples were showing as he was trying to hold back a smile and he looked like such a sweetheart sitting there nervously looking at me, and I found myself stuttering:

"Okay?" as he stood up and went to close the window. I bit my lower lip at the realisation of what I'd just agreed to and looked towards the door. We were alone in the house. Alfred's parents headed off on a picnic in the early morning; they'd invited us to come along but Alfred had said no before asking me first. I wrinkled my brows and swore underneath my breath as I remembered the sternness to his voice as he shook his head at them - he'd probably been planning this all day but had just waited for the right moment to suggest it.

Alfred slammed the window shut and pulled the curtains. The room darkened immediately. There were no lights on but still a dim, orange light fell in through the yellow fabric and left everything in a warm glow. I swallowed harshly and suddenly felt my lips go dry. It was as if my whole body warmed up at once and drops of sweat started forming on my forehead before travelling down my cheeks to drip off of my chin. As Alfred turned around to face me I felt my heartbeat quicken in pace and I caught myself being out of breath having to suck in air at once.

Looking back it wasn't very romantic, surely, but it was decided and there was no turning back. At the moment he started walking towards me I wasn't even thinking about what exactly was going to happen next, but I was just finding myself intrigued with his changing attitude as he slipped off his tee and dropped it to the floor and then stepped out of his boxers exposing himself fully. I eyed his cock dangling between his legs as I scooted back on the bed and peeled at my own shirt. "I'm not entirely sure how..." I mumbled but didn't finish my sentence. As he crawled onto bed with me, I smiled at him and pulled off my shirt. He pushed me so I was sitting with my back against the wall before he reached down and tugged at my briefs.

"I've seen some videos," he said and I nodded and lifted myself off of the bed so that he could pull them down.

"Okay." Somehow knowing that was enough for me at the time. I kicked off the underwear and shuddered lightly as Alfred grabbed around my dick. His big fingers felt rough on my skin and I sighed and closed my eyes.

"Will you be alright?" he asked me in a low voice. I spread my legs as he settled in between them and I couldn't hold back a snicker.

"Ask me when you're inside of me." I looked up into his eyes and was met by surprise. I flustered stuttered: "With your fingers I mean!" and he nodded relieved and rolled his eyes at himself.

"Right. With my fingers."

We embraced awkwardly. His skin was dirtier than mine as he hadn't showered since yesterday but I liked the smell of him. I buried my nose in the crook of his neck and he shook as a jolt went through his body. I felt up his back with my fingertips. His muscles seemed so strangely defined and as I realised he was tensing them, I tried nudging the tips of my fingers around his shoulder blades to make him relax. It seemed to work. He slowly slumped together between my arms and we dropped down onto the bed. It creaked underneath us and we held ours breaths, looked at each other and then started kissing. My fingers were in his hair. His were travelling up and down my sides as well as fondling my cock and I started sweating at the thought of what to do next. I hadn't seen the videos he'd seen and I didn't know what he expected of me. Was there a certain way to go around this or did it just happen? As a gay man I felt I should know these things, but I didn't. Even a supposedly confused guy such as Alfred knew and it made me feel kind of stupid. As I pulled back from the kiss to take in a deep breath, I blinked at him expectingly.

Alfred cleared his throat and searched behind his back for the bottle. I looked at his cock meanwhile. I hadn't touched it yet but still he'd managed to get partly hard. I was getting horny as well but it didn't show as much as I was feeling a bit anxious about it all. Alfred turned back to face me holding the lube, looked down between us and bit his lower lip.

"Are you okay?" he asked and I nodded a bit annoyed.

"I am just a bit nervous. Stop asking."

"Sorry..." We looked at each other. As seconds passed by without neither of us saying anything, I started blushing and felt it spread all over my collarbones. Finally I ripped the bottle from between his hands and peeled off the plastic keeping the lid tightly on top. "Will you tell me if it hurts?" he asked.

"Of course I will," I mumbled and popped the plastic lid off. "I am not a quiet... _woman_."

"It's not about being a _woman_ ," Alfred sighed. He grabbed at my chin and forced me to look up at him. "Arthur," he said with honest concern to his eyes and he paused. "It's just... kind of like loosing virginity."

I spluttered: "What?"

"Isn't it?" he asked dumbfounded. We both took in a shaken breath as we both considered the word and then started chuckling. "I-I mean," he grinned, "some girls consider fingering losing virginity and it's a big thing."

"Really?" I asked amazed but then just shook my head. I peeled at the duvet just to do something with my fingers. "No, I didn't even think of that. It's just because I am not sure what you expect of me."

Alfred shrugged: "I don't really expect anything but for you to, well, tell me if you like it or not."

"How do they do it in the videos?"

"That's porn though. That's different," Alfred said and though it sounded a bit rehearsed I still nodded. "But I know it's all about going slow. One finger at the time." I wanted to ask if I was really expected to take in more than one finger, but I shut up about it. Apparently it was obvious that I was going to. I looked at Alfred's big fingers wrapped around the bottle now as I let go of it and I pondered if even one could go in. It sent a strange thrill down my spine imagining it and I bit my inner cheek.

"I will let you know," I promised. "But how should I lie?"

"On your front," Alfred instructed assured of himself and I felt compelled to follow his authoritative voice. I slipped to lie on my stomach and tried making myself comfortable on my hardening cock. Alfred leaned in over me and shadowed the little light there was coming from the window. I wiped my sweaty face off in the pillowcase and blew out a mouthful of hot air. My heart was beating faster and the blood in me was rushing so strongly through my veins that I could hear it pulsating in my ears. I almost didn't catch what Alfred was saying at first as he settled between my legs again and gently felt up my buttocks: "Is this alright for you?"

He was so overly concerned that I almost felt like saying something sarcastic, but at the same time I felt embarrassingly exposed and I could only find it in me to utter a quiet: "Yes..." I nodded and rested my chin on my arms before trying to peek back at him. The sight was something I would never forget; between my legs this tall, big guy was sitting, the kind of brute that you would normally only see on the field playing with a ball or hanging out with the cheerleaders, but there he was fondling my buttocks with such an excited glimpse to his eyes that it almost made my heart hurt. I felt my cock throb at the sight and I had to look away with a gasp not to make myself too horny too soon. I was feeling thrilled and scared at the same time, but I tried to keep my anxiety away by reminding myself over and over again that Alfred would never purposely hurt me and that he was the most caring guy I knew. Still it was hard not to shake as he finally parted my cheeks and gave my hole a good, long look.

"Should I- uhm..." I licked my dry lips.

"No," Alfred answered knowing what I was about to ask. "You only just showered. It's fine."

"Yeah?" I could hear him rustle with the bottle behind me. I tried focusing on a spot in the pillow. A dirty stain from some chocolate had never been washed off properly and was standing out in the middle of the blue fabric. I stared at it until my eyes hurt and I had to blink. Something cold and slimy dripped down on my skin.

"Oops, sorry," Alfred mumbled. His fingertips stroked down my buttcrack as he tried collecting the lube and I shivered at the cold. It wasn't bad, but odd, especially as he tugged one of my buttocks to the side to rub against my hole. I tightened up by instinct and Alfred stopped. "Did I hurt you?"

I tried to grin: "No." My voice was a bit rusty. "No, it's fine. Just... very weird." He kept rubbing his fingertips across the entrance to lube it up and I started feeling my cock jerk at the touch. I sighed and buried my nose into the pillow. It was nice and I knew this was what it supposedly should feel like, but somehow I felt shy gaining anything from being touched. I didn't consider my asshole to be the least attractive and though I knew it was the only way for gays to really fuck each other, it still wasn't something I thought about as being erotic. That Alfred had found the thought of even licking it exciting was impossible for me to understand. Even now I tried just coming to terms with him touching me.

"I think I used too much lube," Alfred suddenly mumbled. I could feel it slipping further down and stick at the light hair of my balls and I squeezed my eyes tightly together.

"Is it gross?" I asked.

"Not really. Just wet. Hmm..." He rubbed something soft to my ass which I could only assume to be either the duvet or one of our shirts, and I buried my face deeper into the pillow as I muffled some swear words. It was almost demeaning being wiped in this way and if Alfred hadn't been quick to press a fingertip to my hole, I might've asked him to stop right there. Instead I jerked up in my upper-body and leaned onto my elbows as I sucked in air.

"Oh! Careful." Alfred didn't say anything. I looked back at him and found him staring concentrated at my hole. One hand was holding my left buttock aside while he was using his right to lube me up. He had used a whole lot. It was glistening on my skin, but as he tried pushing at me again, I supposed it was only good I was dripping a bit; less lube and it might've hurt horribly.

"I think you need to relax," he suggested carefully. He looked up and right into my eyes and blushed straight away. I licked my lips and quickly looked back down at the chocolate-spot on the pillow.

"Right..." I took in a deep breath and let it out again slowly. Then I closed my eyes, squeezed my hole and then relaxed. But it was difficult. Though I had no sense of time, I suppose it took at least a few minutes for me to properly calm down as I kept pushing Alfred back every time he pushed forward. But then it just happened. Of course I had prepared for it, but it still seemed sudden as he finally managed to wriggle the tip of his finger inside and push it in an inch. The feeling was indescribable, mostly because it wasn't as groundbreaking as I'd expected it to be. Somehow I had worked myself up for something really painful or really pleasurable, but I didn't feel _stuffed_ or _stretched_ or anything remotely like that. I just felt like a boy with half a finger inside my hole and I gasped and wriggled a little, and Alfred stopped and blabbered:

"Does it hurt, should I stop?"

"I don't know," I gasped and then shook my head. "No. No, you shouldn't."

"Really?" His voice sounded impressed and thrilled at the same time. I managed to look back and spot a smile on his lips as he pushed in further making me close my eyes and wrinkle my brows. He was stretching his finger and I could feel his nail sometimes bumping to a sore spot inside of me, but I didn't whimper or say anything to him. Though it was an odd feeling more than anything else, I didn't want for him to stop. It is hard to explain if you haven't been faced with the feeling before yourself, but it was something new to me which I just had to experience more of. The moment Alfred gained courage and started tugging out his finger again before wriggling it back in was when I started breathing more heavily.

"Ah, be careful," I moaned and Alfred immediately slowed down.

"Should I get some more lube?" I nodded and he withdrew his finger leaving me tightening my hole up. He popped some lube out and rubbed it around my hole before he tried entering again. It went more easily this time and I came to enjoy it. Though I didn't know much of fingering back then and even less about the prostate, I just liked the immediate intimacy that occurred as he started moving around inside of me. I worried a lot at first; was I clean? How did I feel around Alfred? Did I make too much noise, too little noise, was he doing it right, was I doing it right? But soon I calmed down and let go of all worries as I just let myself enjoy him and it wasn't until he started pushing a second finger to my entrance that I shook my head and whispered:

"I am not sure I can do more."

I was sweating at that point. It was dripping down my back and face, my cock was partly hard and trapped against the mattress and my fingertips were hurting from having tugged at the duvet underneath us. I felt the room had turned stuffy and I could hardly breathe. Especially not as my lips seemed extremely dry as well as my tongue. I licked it around my mouth as I looked over my shoulder and brushed my fringe aside. It was thick with sweat. So much for showering.

"Did I hurt you?" Alfred asked shyly. His finger was still inside of me but now he slowly withdrew it. I grimaced as it left my body and I squeezed my buttocks tightly together as he let go of them and sat up.

"No," I said and closed my eyes. "You did just fine."

"Did you come?" I shook my head again. I wasn't feeling hot and bothered, just strangely happy. My hole felt different and a tad sore but nothing I would complain about. I shrugged lightly.

"No but it's fine. I feel good."

"Yeah?" Alfred moved and I lied down next to me with a sigh. He bounced down and lied on his back with a loud huff. I opened my eyes partly to watch him and found him staring back at me excitedly. It wasn't until I peeked between his legs, though, that I realised just how hard he was. His cock was standing up big and proud and he was holding onto it tightly as he seemed just ready to blow his load. "You looked so fucking sexy," he whispered and my faced reddened deeply. The sight of his pleased face was so much more satisfying than having him inside of me and I couldn't help it but rolled to my back and grabbed at my own cock as I gave it a jerk.

"So did you," I whispered and kissed his shoulder as he started jerking himself off hurriedly. He came with a groan. I followed not long after.

* * *

We didn't speak of fingering again for the next few days I was there. Alfred had a happy smile on his lips the whole time and I think he was still satisfied from that first time. He even hid the bottle away in his drawer and I felt I could finally breathe without being expected to do anything but to sit and sweat in the garden while he showed off his newest football-tricks. It gave me a chance to reflect upon it all. I especially thought about my upcoming chat with Scott.

In some ways Scott had been right; getting back together with Alfred had seemed hurried and sudden, and I was still a bit taken aback by his coming-out talk with his parents earlier that week. Back in December we'd stopped talking because I'd admitted to being gay. Now Alfred had come out and though I doubted he would let anyone at school know, it was still a pretty big step. I couldn't help but to think that it meant he must have been thinking about it all for much longer than I'd suspected. I should be the first one to know that being gay is not something you accept straight away if no one else around you does, and I felt assured that Alfred had had less _colourful_ friends than I over the past few years. Maybe that was why he was still confused and searching for the right words to describe himself with.

But Scott hadn't been right in his anger. Watching Alfred grinning at me whenever he rolled the ball across his shoulders right left me wondering how we could ever had come so far apart as we were back in January. With him everything was just natural; we'd held hands and kissed since we were kids, we'd been in the same class up until now and we'd shared thoughts and feelings in the best way we knew. It would've been impossible for me to keep an anger for him because he simply meant too much to me. But it nagged me thinking that anyone would consider me a sellout; someone who just weakly jumped back into his arms because it was easier than to fight the world alone. I wondered if that was how Scott still viewed me.

I'd wanted to prepare myself for the chat with Scott to avoid any awkwardness, but I wasn't given the time. As I returned home from Alfred's I found myself buried in summer-readings which I was for once behind in. That Alfred kept calling to tell me silly things like how he'd swallowed a fly by accident or found my dirty socks underneath his bed didn't help much on my concentration either. By the time class started up again I was more prepared for calling in sick than for facing Scott. He, however, hadn't rehearsed greatly either. Rather he looked like he'd had a horrible summer and hidden underneath his duvet for the whole time. His skin was oddly pale and his eyes drowsy as we bumped into each other on the stairs going to lunch and we clumsily stepped aside.

"Hey," he said messing up his dark hair.

"Hey," I replied weakly.

"Good?"

"Alright yeah. Yourself?" Scott cleared his throat:

"Uh, how about we go outside to chat?" he suggested. He was looking around. A lot of guys were hanging out in the hallways discussing their holidays and I nodded.

"Let's go behind the cafeteria. No one ever goes there."

We were quiet walking there and I took the chance to look him up and down. He was wearing some old tee and worn chinos and he didn't at all look up for chatting. He was holding onto his bag and he was swaying it by his side lightly. I tightened the strap in mine and turned around a corner by the cafeteria to let us outside through the back door. I threw a quick glance in across the tables searching for Alfred and I thought I saw him with the other guys, but I didn't have time to check. I knew he would be alright by himself. Scott was more of a doubt.

We stepped through the small door out onto the few steps of stone leading to the teachers' parking lot in the back. I stepped down a step or two before taking a seat and Scott closed the door behind us before walking all the way down to stand on ground. He dropped his bag to the stair and shoved his fingertips into the pockets of his chinos as he leaned a bit forward and started rocking from heel to toe. He was avoiding eye-contact. I took in a deep breath of the fresh air and glanced towards the cars parked a few metres away.

"How was your summer?" I asked and quickly added: "Sorry I didn't reply to your message. I was pretty busy."

"It's alright. I bet you were with Alfred all the time," he said in a questioning voice but he didn't look like someone who wanted an answer. He kicked a stone out of his way. "How was my summer? What do you think. Awful. I was upset which made my parents upset. They said I ruined their holiday."

"Sorry about that..." I glanced upwards and squinted at the sharp sunlight. Though we'd just entered September it was still pretty warm and I was wearing light jeans with holes in them. I peeled at one of them and fumbled across my skin as I tried coming up with something to say. "Are you still down about Oscar?"

"Wouldn't you be? What an idiot. What a _fucking_ idiot!" Scott swirled around on the spot and kicked his bag. I wrinkled my brows watching him. He had fisted his hands and punched the air with them, noticed me staring and then let his arms drop to hang by his sides. "I really liked him. I'd been so excited to see him and then he pulls this on me. Who knows how many times he'd done it in the time he was gone. I mean, I suspected he would've at least once or twice but that he would have the fucking guts to do it _with me so close to him_? I'd never expected that. Never." He shook his head.

"Have you been thinking about that all summer?" I asked meekly. Scott grimaced and pointed to his tired face.

"What does it look like?"

"Sorry, never mind!" I rolled my eyes and leaned back. Scott turned his back to me and sighed.

I did feel a bit like an idiot asking all these questions. It was obvious to me he had been hurt and was still hurting, and I felt somewhat close to him. At least close enough to understand his pain. But I hated being talked back to like this and a stubborn voice in me kept repeating that I was in my right and he was the one who had wanted to apologise to me and meet up with me. So far we'd only met up.

I stared at his back until he turned back around with more shy eyes. "I'm very frustrated," he said. "I just don't know what to do."

"I know," I said. "I had the same feeling just a few months ago. Hell, most of my life before then too."

"With Alfred you mean?" I nodded and Scott scratched his chin. "It isn't the same though. I've been with him for quite some time."

"And I've known Alfred since we were both eleven years old," I replied and raised my brows. The way Scott looked at me confirmed what I had been wondering; he really did still consider me weak. I grabbed around my knees and straightened up sitting. "He came out to his parents," I said and Scott blinked.

"Really? He said he is gay?"

"Not that he is gay. But that he's with me." Scott looked genuinely impressed though he didn't say it out loud. I felt a quiet joy ride through my body.

"Oh." I kicked the air and tried giving him a bit of a smile.

"Will you be having lunch with the guys?" I asked and Scott hesitated. "It's only Alfred you don't like, right? He doesn't even have a problem with you," I lied. "But you don't have to chat."

"I don't know," he said.

"When you want to we can start going to the slams together again," I continued hopefully but he shrugged me off again with a childish:

"Maybe." I rolled my eyes again. He was starting to get a bit on my nerves and after a few seconds I finally got up.

"I am going to head to lunch," I said. "Do you want to join or not?"

"Maybe one of the other days," he said and scratched his cheek. "I still have some things to think about. Alfred is one of them."

"Alright," I sighed as I didn't reel like getting into the whole deal with Alfred telling on Oscar. I was about to head back up, but something in me wouldn't do it. I stepped up the stairs and turned back around. "What if Oscar came back to you?" I asked and Scott grimaced. "No, really. What if he apologised for everything. Would you get back together?" Scott seemed to give it a thought.

"I probably would," he said. "He's a nice guy deep down."

"Then _stop_ acting as if I am a weak kid for being back with Alfred." I tightened my grip around my bag and took in a deep breath. I wasn't sure why I was saying all this, but it just suddenly blurted out of me: "He never cheated on me. He always tried to do what he thought was right and was he sometimes wrong? Hell yeah. But I've forgiven him and he's forgiven me and I never spent a whole holiday sobbing because of him. I just had to pull through. That's what you told me. So stop speaking of him as if he's a jerk. It doesn't suit you." Scott looked at me with big eyes and his lips stretched into a fine line on his face. I could tell he was angry with me and upset at the same time. I didn't have the time to apologise for what I'd said. I nodded, turned around and headed back inside.

* * *

Though my chat with Scott hadn't been the best I still felt good having been upfront with him for once. Looking at his face I realised that he'd been a hypocrite all of this time; while he was blaming me for being with Alfred, he was thinking how Oscar might have been cheating on him. At least Alfred had never promised me anything while we were friends. A boyfriend should be something different.

Alfred never really got what was going on and I think that was for the better. He didn't even ask me about the chat I had with Scott. I think he wasn't the least interested. The friendship between the two of them wouldn't be restored and they were both fine with things being that way. As Scott started having lunch with the rest of us, Alfred just shrugged it off, made sure to sit at least three seats away from him and else enjoyed the conversations we had.

I had started to blend in with the crowd. It seemed most of these guys had forgotten that I was gay and therefore different, and I was often asked about boobs or my preference in girls before someone suddenly remembered and started laughing at whoever had asked me. I just smiled at them and kindly joked along with whatever they threw at me knowing that they meant no harm. The harshest gay-joker was often Alfred and luckily I could always smack his head when walking home from school. It became natural for us to hang out almost every day and thinking back, I can't remember a single day in September where we didn't see each other as classes had ended. We didn't do things much differently than friends but for the occasional kisses and jerking off. Even fingering was somewhat rare and I only did it to please Alfred because it made him hard so easily. Surely I daydreamed about what fucking would feel like but I knew I wasn't ready for it yet. I wasn't even sure how it was supposed to work out and so we kept our relationship pretty quiet considering we were teenagers.

Even though no one inside school knew that Alfred and I were seeing each other, I think they appreciated that we mostly came off as a pair of jokers. The less I acted like the stereotypical gay man, the easier they had it around me and the more they hung out with me even when Alfred wasn't to be seen. But of course there was still a few guys who either couldn't or wouldn't come to terms with my sexuality and it showed at PE.

Though I didn't dread PE anymore the same way I'd done my first year, I still didn't like the locker room. It seemed like such a masculine place and I didn't fit in with my weak arms and lacking body-hair. Here I was at my most vulnerable and Louis and the lot took advantage of it by shouting 'fag' and kicking around my bag whenever they got their hands on it. This Thursday was no different. It started with some pushing around when showering and ended with them stealing my bag. As I came out from the showers dripping wet and with the towel hanging over my shoulders, I saw them standing with my bag between them at the left bench. Someone had snatched a piece of chalk and had written 'homo' on the front of it. I sighed as I saw it.

"Very funny, now give it back," I said reaching out my hand.

"Nope," one of them answered. "I am not touching a homo."

"But you will touch my bag?" I asked and got no answer.

"You're not touching _my_ bag," someone grimaced childishly.

"Yeah, fuck off homo."

"Fuck off yourselves." A guy reached in between the group as he passed them by, snatched the bag out of Louis' hands and handed it to me with a wry smile. I recognised him from lunch but I couldn't remember his name. "Not very creative these days, are they now?"

"Thanks," I said. His skin was a tad darker and his hair messy and brown.

"Antonio," he said. "If you forgot my name."

"Arthur," I replied awkwardly and he laughed:

"I know." He sat down on the bench next to me as I started getting dressed. "Can you get that off of your bag?"

"Yeah, it's just chalk," I said and easily swiped some of it off with my damp fingertips. He nodded thoughtfully.

"Are you coming tomorrow?"

"Coming?"

"To town," he said. "Some guys and I are heading out for a drink. Maybe you would like to join?"

"Uh..." I looked at him surprised. I'd never been invited to join anyone drinking, at least not since I still went to parties with Evan, and it took me somewhat by surprise. Antonio smiled.

"I know Alfred is going too. You can always hang out by his side," he said.

"Not like I need a bodyguard," I huffed and we both laughed lightly.

"Alright, just saying."

"Yeah. Okay. I might go," I said. Antonio nodded and looked pleased.

"Do you know if Scott would go?" someone asked. I looked to my left and found another guy from the table standing there. I remembered his name to be Stuart. He was leaning onto the bench with his knee but then sat down on it. He was just in a pair of wet briefs and I forced myself not to look but just kept getting dressed.

"Uh, maybe?" I answered.

"He's not been around all summer. It would be nice to see more of him," Antonio added. I gave it a thought; if Scott was dragged out into town, he would have the chance of getting some beer and meeting some girls and forget about Oscar for a while.

"I can try to ask him," I said.

"If you are going, I am sure he'll go too," Antony said.

"Yeah," Stuart nodded. "Aren't you pretty good friends?"

"We're alright," I said shrugging and zipped my bag. I dragged it over my shoulder and smiled at them. "Okay. Going to town tomorrow."

"Meet you at nine! Don't forget your fake ID."

"My fake ID?" Stuart and Antonio smiled at each other.

"He can borrow Alfred's," Antonio said. I chose not to comment on it. I was just feeling the thrill from having been invited out with the rest. For once I was _one of the guys_.

* * *

As Alfred heard I was going out with them, he tried to make their nights sound like the most eventful time I would ever have in my life. Sitting in my room Friday evening he bragged away about beer, ladies and 'downing a bottle of whiskey in one hour'.

"We normally go to the pub on the corner," he said fiddling with his socks. He had put on jeans and a tight fitted black tee. I was listening to him blabber while getting dressed myself and sometimes I looked to get a glimpse of his muscles showing underneath the fabric. "Just to start with a beer. Then we hit the clubs and get the ladies."

"You get ladies?" I asked with a wry grin slipping on a sweater. Alfred blushed a little.

" _They_ try to get me but of course I refuse."

"Of course. Could you turn off the music?" Alfred reached over and turned off my radio. He then grabbed his bag and dragged it onto the bed as he searched for his money in the front pocket. He was supposed to sleep over and possibly stay for the weekend, but he'd only brought one pair of boxers and no books for school Monday. He had however brought plenty of movies with him. As he pushed the bag back down onto the floor, I could hear them rustling around.

"Is Scott going then?" Alfred asked and I looked at him surprised. I hadn't expected him to remember.

"Yeah, I asked him after class. He said he would. It did take some convincing though."

"What kind of convincing?" Alfred asked.

"Just the promise of a fun evening." It wasn't a lie though not the whole truth. Scott had seemed suspicious as I approached him with the idea of a night out. I couldn't blame him; I never went out with his mates, so to have them inviting me out and even make me drag him along seemed weird to him. Maybe he was even a bit embarrassed he had alienated himself so much for this to happen.

'Look,' I'd said, 'I am going and I never go anywhere. That must mean something, right? At least come along to show me some support so I don't have to chat football and boobs all evening. Be my literate partner!' It had luckily made him laugh and after a free sandwich from the cafeteria, he'd agreed to tag along. He would meet us at the park at nine, he'd said. Now I could only hope that he would keep the promise.

"Is that what you're wearing?" Alfred suddenly asked and I looked down myself.

"It's just a sweater."

"It's a bit geeky. It's homo. You look homo." I blinked at him and only then did I realise that he was joking; he was sending me a bright grin and I sat down astride of his lap and grabbed at his head.

"Good. I am homo," I smiled. Alfred ran his fingertips up and down my back and I leaned down to kiss him shortly. He dragged me closer immediately for more and I could possibly have been convinced by his charm. But I kept the evening in mind and as he pressed his tongue in between my lips, I leaned away and pursed my lips. "Beer," I said.

"Right. Beer!" Alfred seemed well excited. I slipped down from his lap.

"I'll just grab an apple on the way. Put your stuff underneath the bed and I'll be right there." I messed up his hair before hurrying to the kitchen. I could hear him growl as he tried to fix the locks after I left.

Mom was standing by the window as I got out there. She was sipping a cup of tea. I smiled at her as she looked up. "Going out in a second," I told her and grabbed a red apple from the bowl on the fridge. She nodded lightly.

"When will you be home?" she asked and I shrugged.

"I don't know. Not too late I think."

"And Alfred is sleeping over?" I sighed:

"That's what I said. Is it still alright?" I looked at her and she quietly glanced down into her cup of tea. She had been quiet a lot recently. I pondered if it was because of work. She had been hanging out at home at odd times of the day just cleaning the kitchen or watching telly while looking sad. But she never spoke about it.

"Of course it's alright," she finally said. I nodded, spun the apple around in the air before catching it and heading for the door. "Arthur." I turned around. She licked her lips and put the cup down on the counter. "You're hanging out with Alfred quite often, aren't you?"

"We're friends," I said. As she stared at me, I felt a lump starting to build up in my throat. I tugged at the collar of my sweater. "Mom-"

"You and Alfred, are you-…" She looked away. She couldn't finish her sentence. I felt my heart racing as she clucked her tongue searching for the right words to say. "Are you… Oh gosh. Arthur, please tell me." She looked at me with her eyes big and begging. I swallowed harshly – my Adam's apple jumped at the pressure.

"Am I what?" I whispered and she stood up immediately, walked over and reached for my hand, but she didn't grab it.

"We'll figure it out," she said. I was looking straight into her eyes now. She seemed so weak; her pupils were shaking and her upper lip was stiff. She was grimacing trying to hold back her emotions. "Please, Arthur, I just need to know."

"I…" I parted my lips. My breath was ready. I had it all stumbling up inside of me; all my words, explanations, worries, hopes and things I wanted to talk about, ask about. But then Alfred stepped out into the hallway. He slammed my bedroom door shut and turned to us.

"Are you ready?" he asked and I looked at him. He held his hands up in defence. "Oh, sorry, did I interrupt?"

"No," Mom said and as I looked back at her, she was smiling kindly. "Have a nice evening. Don't get drunk."

"We won't even drink!" Alfred blabbered well aware of how his own mom would've reacted did she know what he was up to. I just shook my head and took a bite of the apple as I stepped over to put on my shoes.

"I'll only have a beer or two," I promised. Alfred shushed at me with red cheeks, smiled charmingly at my mom and then fiddled the front door open. He stepped out and I waved at her. She didn't see it; she'd already left for bed.

* * *

By the time we arrived, Scott was already waiting for us by the park entrance. Alfred had been giving me a lift on the back of his bike and it felt odd getting off the rear rack with Alfred rather than Scott. Rolling downhill with my scarf flowing in the wind I'd thought back to the time when he'd given me lifts back and forth to the poetry slams. I'd enjoyed it thoroughly but tough I had mentioned the basement to Scott myself, I wasn't sure I would really want to go back. Performing poems was something I now connected to the time before Alfred and not with him. I figured I had to come up with something else to do with my time now.

Scott wasn't by himself; Stuart had shown up too as well as Antonio and two other guys I didn't know by name. They were all typical big men who did sport and I awkwardly smiled and stepped to stand next to Alfred as he went to greet them. I felt immediately out of place but they weren't rude to me. Rather Stuart went to greet me immediately.

"Ready for drinking?" he asked and rubbed his hands together. "I need to celebrate!"

"Celebrate what?"

"My team won!"

I felt dumb but had to ask: "Uh, team?"

"Basketball," Antonio explained from behind. "We watched the game earlier. My team lost, so don't celebrate too wildly."

"Celebrations!" Stuart cheered loudly. Scott slowly walked over next to me.

"I don't watch it either," he let me know. I looked up. He looked better today than he had on the first day of school. A few weeks had passed by since then but still his mood had improved; he didn't look like he'd just stumbled out of bed but rather awake and active. Still he was more quiet than he used to be. As we headed through the park, he walked behind everyone else and I tried to stay in the middle not to lose touch with the guys nor leave Scott behind.

It was a nice evening though a bit chilly. I tightened my scarf and took in a deep breath. Stuart was watching me and he slowed down to walk by my side. "Good you could come," he said. "The more the merrier. Ron and Eddy were supposed to be here too, but they ended up not going in the last second. Such losers."

"How many guys are you normally?"

"Normally most from our PE class, yeah. Alfred hardly ever says no. But he has since you started hanging out again." I smiled wryly:

"Oh, so you had to invite me to drag Mr Football along?" Stuart started laughing.

"It's nothing like that, shut up. Are you used to drinking though?" It was a silly question but of course he couldn't know that. Though it had been a while since I was last at a party, I still clearly remembered the taste of all the colourful drinks and the little taste in those looking like water. Even better did I remember how my mouth felt after having thrown up at Alfred's house. I bit my lower lip at the memory.

"I have. I choose not to get drunk anymore, though. It's not worth it."

"Not worth it!" Stuart looked like I had just insulted something dear to him and it made me laugh. Despite his broad shoulders and stubbles he got a very feminine sway to his hands the moment I said that. "Don't be silly. It is always worth getting drunk. Right, Scott?" He looked back at him and I did too. Scott just smiled weakly at him. I sensed a story I hadn't been told.

I got to hear plenty of stories about Alfred. We'd hardly gotten to the pub before everyone started rambling away. We got a table in the corner and everyone but me flashed their fake IDs at the bartender who just raised his brows at them. He inspected Alfred's.

"23 years old?" he asked and Alfred nodded wildly though everyone was snickering. "Right. Better serve you then." He winked at Alfred who turned red like a beetroot and we were all given a pint of beer. I snatched the fake ID out of Alfred's hand.

"You seriously thought you could pass as someone that old?" I asked looking at it. "You hardly look your own age as it is!" He did; his face had become much squarer over the last few years, his voice had deepened and with his recent shorter haircut, he could pass as someone nineteen on a good day. But my outburst made the others laugh.

"Mine says eighteen," one of the nameless guys said as if to redeem his own pride.

"Mine says twenty," Stuart said. He looked at me. "Too old?"

"No, the stubbles help. Alfred here is smooth." I teasingly grabbed at his chin and he wriggled free with a grimace and raised his glass.

"Oh, shut up."

"Getting defensive?" Scott asked. We all got quiet and awkwardly glanced between Scott and Alfred. Scott looked surprised at himself; as if he had never meant to say that out loud. I reached in underneath the table and squeezed Alfred's knee. Though a lot of the things Scott thought and said about Alfred annoyed me, I didn't want a single comment to ruin the night.

Alfred took in a deep breath. "Yes," he then said calmly and took a sip of his beer. And that was all. I cleared my throat and raised my own beer up high.

"To basketball," I said smiling jokingly, "whichever team you like."

"To basketball!" Stuart cheered.

"To ladies!" Antonio roared.

"And to alcohol for making them available to us," one of the nameless guys pointed out.

"I don't want to cheer to that," I huffed and wrinkled my nose.

"Me neither," Scott agreed.

"Fuck man, the mood is turning gay. Alright, to America!" Alfred shouted.

"To England," I interrupted and on that note all glasses smashed together and we had a big gulp. Alfred choked a little. I closed my eyes tightly and sighed at the taste of beer again. Scott had at least three gulps and smiled afterwards.

"You're always so damn patriotic, Alfred. Arthur, did you know, he once started singing the national anthem when drunk? Talk about a party pooper!" Stuart grinned and Alfred rolled his eyes innocently.

"Or the time he dropped his drink on that girl-" Antonio pondered.

"Hah, how about when we shaved his leg as he passed out?"

"They shaved your leg?" I chirped and blinked at Alfred. He kicked someone underneath the table.

"No. Never," he said and Stuart laughed.

"Right, as if. You were all drunk on the bed and we came in with the razor. So-…"

He continued the story which evolved into another story which was soon followed up by a third. Everyone had their go at embarrassing Alfred to entertain me but for Scott who wisely shut up and just sat smiling. We had three beers at the pub and I don't remember when we left. I just remember being in an extremely good mood while poking fun at Alfred for all the new things I now knew about him. At one point we fell behind the group and he grabbed my hand, dragged me in close and kissed my cheek.

"Don't be too cheeky," he whispered and I felt my cheeks heat up. "You will regret it later." He waved with his fingertips in the air. I punched him in the stomach and hurried to keep up with the rest. Alfred was laughing harshly. I was silently making plans for us for later.

A lot of clubs turned us down as we tried entering and as a single bouncer threatened calling the police on us, the guys hid their IDs in a hurry and quickly walked on. I just hung out in the background not to get in any kind of trouble though I had the feeling that while these blokes would be grounded if they were driven home in a police car, my dad would just praise me for becoming more of a daredevil. Most of the time I kept an eye on Scott. He was quiet but smiling all the time. I could tell he was enjoying just hanging out and the beer had made him chat a little now and then. He mostly just cracked jokes or pointed something out to me as we walked, but at least it was some sort of improvement. Though he wasn't the kind of literate companionship I'd imagined, it was actually alright; these guys were nice and neither of them tried excluding me just because I was the gay guy. I didn't even feel very gay. No one mentioned my sexuality, not even as we passed a porn-shop clearly aimed at _my kind_. Alfred was the only one who got big eyes and glanced back at me. Had we been alone, I think he would've walked in there. I could tell from the look in his eyes that he was getting tipsy; apparently he wasn't as used to drinking as he would like me to imagine.

As we were finally let in somewhere it was into a colourful basement with loud music playing. Here no one seemed to care for age but just for whether or not we could afford to pay the drinks we ordered. A few young-looking girls were hanging out in the corner pursing their lips at everyone, an elderly man was sitting at the bar ordering his fifth shot of vodka and plenty of styled-up couples were dancing in the middle of the room. From the ceiling colourful lights were splashing all over their sweaty skin and for a moment I found myself fascinated just watching them.

"I want sex on the beach," Stuart said and laughed as if he'd just made the best joke ever.

"Me too," Antonio said. "But not with you!" They glared at each other for a moment and then started laughing deeply before breaking free from the group as they headed for the bar. I looked up at Alfred and shrugged.

"Do you want anything?" he asked.

"Could you just get me whatever?"

"What?" He leaned in closer. "I can't hear you." The music was getting louder and I pressed my lips to his ear shouting:

"Just whatever!"

"Right!" He gave me a thump up and then followed the other guys. I turned to Scott. He was watching a girl dancing; her hair was long and blond and her skirt shorter than her underwear. As Scott noticed me watching him, he smiled shyly and shook his head.

"I am not drunk enough to attempt!" he said and winked at me.

"Then get a drink," I suggested. "I'll find us a table, alright?" Scott nodded and I started making my way across the dancefloor awkwardly shoving my way in between the many bodies. I was feeling warm; because it was a basement, little air got in and out of here and sweat starting dripping down my forehead. I unzipped my jacket and gasped in air as I finally made it to the other side of the floor and looked across the small tables lined up alongside the wall. A lot of them were being used and there weren't enough space by just one for all of us. I pushed some of the chairs aside to put two tables together as a hand was placed on my back.

"It's really you!" someone behind me said. The voice was muffled by the music and I didn't recognise it straight away, so as I turned around and saw who was standing behind me, a jolt went through my body.

"Evan!" There was no doubt it was him; surely his face had matured over the last two years, his haircut had changed into a black mess and he'd gotten a bit more lean. But his eyes were the same. He was smiling at me joyfully as if he'd been looking for me for long. "You're-" _still alive,_ I thought but smiled: "here! Long time no see."

"Long time no see indeed. Man, have I missed you." He was still smiling and it gave me chills down my spine. Not of the good kind but rather ones of anxiety. Looking at his ripped tee, the necklace with a upside-down cross attached to it, the skinny, green jeans and the big boots I felt almost sick. It wasn't that he was bad looking but he was in the past and not the present and I hadn't been giving him much thought for a while. He was what I could've become had I not made some radical choices. I wasn't sure why, but it scared me a bit.

"Oh..." I just said.

"I'm here with some mates. Damn, Arthur, you need to meet them. You'll love them," he said before looking me up and down. He frowned a bit and an arrogant glimpse came to his eyes. "You're wearing a sweater," he said. I looked down myself and felt immediately embarrassed.

"Well-"

"Don't tell me you have started licking pussy too." I felt my face warm up at his directness. It almost made me angry. I remembered how he used to talk to me and correct me whenever he thought I didn't do things right, and it made me feel like a child again. But I found it hard to find the words in me to talk back to him. "What are you doing now?"

"I'm finishing high school. Second year," I told him. He raised his brows.

"I'm working," he said. "It gives good money. If you worked, maybe you could get some cooler clothes as well."

"Oh, shut up," I mumbled and it made him laugh. I glanced to the side, but I couldn't see the others anywhere. I looked back at Evan. "Where do you work?" I asked awkwardly.

"At a CD-shop. It pays alright. It's cooler than school," he said and made a face of disgust as if educating oneself was the worst thing you could ever do. It made me raise my brows at him a little. He looked over his shoulder and gestured towards a table a bit away; two girls in black dresses and a guy with a mohawk were sitting sipping drinks. The girls looked thirteen. The guy was at least twenty-five. "Come sit with us. We can catch up."

"Not really," I said and scratched my arm. "I'm here with some mates."

"Some mates?" he asked and narrowed his eyes as if he didn't believe me.

"I'm here with Alfred," I said. Evan spluttered:

"With that asshole!" I felt my cheeks darken even more and something in me started boiling. I took in a deep breath.

"At least he never ripped my jeans off while I was passed out!" Evan rolled his eyes and sighed. He looked like I was bothering him with nonsense.

"It was just for fun. I was horny! Jeez, Arthur, get over yourself, you're not that great looking. Not anymore at least. Come sit with us, right? I'll hook you up." He smiled at me suggestively, reached out and then grabbed my hand. I stiffened and parted my lips to say something, hesitated and shook my head. He tugged at my hand again. "Come on."

"Drinks!" Alfred shouted in my ear and I jumped on the spot and automatically ripped my hand away from Evan. I looked up at him with relieved eyes.

"Alfred!" He shoved a big glass with some blue liquid in it up into my face. I grabbed at it surprised. "What is this?"

"That is _whatever_ ," he said and laughed. Only then did he notice Evan. "Hey, someone you know?" He clearly couldn't recognise him and Evan just raised his brows and gave me a daring look. I knew what he wanted from me, but he wasn't going to get it. He was in the past and I was better than that. I took in a deep breath.

"No," I said and Evan flinched with a huff. Alfred took a big gulp of his own, red drink.

"Have a fucking nice time," Evan said and swirled around. He walked back to the table and whispered something to one of the girls. They both looked my way and rolled their eyes.

"What was he doing?" Alfred asked.

"Hitting on me," I said and looked at Alfred's face lit up in confusion. I then grinned: "Shut up, he just thought he knew me, but he didn't. Where's everyone?"

"Right here!" Stuart came from behind Alfred holding two drinks of his own. The other guys joined as well and started moving the tables together. I sipped my drink while Alfred leaned in close to my ear.

"He wasn't _really_ hitting on you?" he wanted to be assured and I rolled my eyes at him.

"Do I look like his kind of guy?" Alfred started snickering and so did I. The next time I looked over at Evan, he and his friends had left the table and I couldn't see them on the dancefloor or anywhere else in the club. Alfred tugged at my arm.

"Sit down," he said. "We're discussing football!"

"Fascinating," I answered but took a seat next to him. He grabbed my hand underneath the table and I smiled into my drink. Relief was taking over my body and as I looked at Alfred, I felt a mental barrier create between Evan and him; he was a loser with no boyfriend and no education while I had the school's hottest football player willingly sucking me off in bed. Why would I change that for anything?

"Cheers!" I said and lifted my glass interrupting the others. Scott looked confused.

"Uh, to what?" he asked.

"To Alfred!" I said and Alfred blushed:

"What?"

"-and his shaved leg!"

"Yes!" Stuart roared. "To Alfred and his shaved leg!"

* * *

Half an hour and two drinks later I had started feeling the effect of the alcohol. My cheeks were constantly red and I was chatting away as if I'd never done else in my entire life. I wasn't sure what was in this _whatever_ drink Alfred got me, but it surely tasted well and made my eyes go wide open. I blabbered. Alfred laughed. Scott got up and danced with the blonde girl and returned later with her phone number and a lipstick mark on his cheek.

"I think she loves me," he swooned and we all laughed. Antonio later returned with three phone numbers which he bragged about like a charmer. Stuart just shook his head at him; he still hadn't chatted up a single lady and as we left the club around half past eleven, he was ready to continue to another one. So were the two guys whose names I still hadn't caught onto. I couldn't care less though; the three of them disappeared down the street while Scott, Antonio, Alfred and I headed back towards the park. Scott and Antonio were walking in front of us holding around each other while both trying to outdo the other in how many girlfriends they had had. Their number of partners got bigger with the minute. I was holding Alfred's hand. No one noticed us and if they did, I didn't take notice myself. I was feeling too happy and too alive to care. It was almost scary; as if I was walking on clouds. Alfred didn't look much better though. Not only his cheeks but his whole face was red and he was swinging my arm around and declaring his love for everything loudly:

"I love football! And chips... and you! Ha!" We grinned at each other.

"I love..."

"Yeah?"

"Shakespeare!"

"Aww, come on Arthur. I am your ride home. Be nice!"

I started laughing: " _You_ are going to bike _me_ home? Drunk!"

"I am not drunk!" We both laughed even harder. My lungs had started hurting and I had forgotten my scarf somewhere, but somehow it didn't matter. I had had an amazing night and no scarf, no Evan, no tipsy-cycling Alfred could ruin it.

He had left his bike by the park. It had been locked to the fence and he fiddled with the key while I said goodbye to Antonio and Scott.

"I'm glad I went," Scott kept saying and smiled at me. "I got a phone number!"

"And a headache tomorrow," I guaranteed and Antonio shook his head.

"Nonsense! Hey, Alfred, cycle nicely!" he shouted and waved at him. I turned back to Alfred who had managed to rip the bike free and was dragging it down onto the road.

"Sure. Sure. Driving," he mumbled. "I am a master at riding a bike."

"See you tomorrow. Uh, Monday," Scott stuttered and I watched him head for the bus stop together with Antonio. As I turned to Alfred, he was sitting astride the bike smiling proudly at me. He rang the bell.

"Your ride is ready, sir!" he beamed and I happily sat down behind him and swung my arms around his waist.

"To the flat, please."

"To the flat!" he repeated and took off downhill. I pressed my warm face to his jacket and closed my eyes as he swung around corners and cheered at the people we passed by. I felt amazing. I had nothing to worry about anymore. Alfred was mine and as we reached the apartment building and he threw his bike to the ground in a shout, I just stared at him admiringly. I was so in love. I was so in love that stumbling up the stairs and scraping my knee didn't matter, so in love that fiddling with the key to open the front door was just one big laugh and so in love that I attacked his body the moment we stepped into my room. Alfred stumbled back onto the bed in surprise at my sudden approach and just looked up at me drowsily.

"Do you want sex?" he asked confused and I sat astride of his lap as I'd done earlier, grabbed him by the hair and grinned.

"Yes, yes, yes," I mumbled and kissed him. He was warm and sweaty. We hadn't even cared for taking off our shoes and jackets and I laughed as we fought to get off the sneakers without moving off the bed. We were loud. It was lovely. He kept kissing me; his wet lips were on my forehead, my ear, my cheek and my lips. I fumbled across his body, unzipped his jacket, tore it off of him and attacked his neck with bites and kisses. Alfred turned his head and gasped. I bit harder.

"No, Arthur, fuck!" he whispered and started struggling underneath me, but I kept tugging at his shirt.

"What? Did I hurt you? Shut up," I mumbled and smiled to his neck. He pushed me off of him and stumbled out of bed, and only then did I see the person standing in the doorway. Everything froze for a second. I felt my heart stop beating. I was staring straight into my dad's eyes and never have I seen him looking more disappointed than at that moment.

He cleared his throat and opened the door fully. "Get out," he said. "Get out of here right now!"


	27. 27

I know what you're all thinking; stupid, careless Arthur. I never thought this was how I was going to come out to my dad. To tell the truth I never really thought about coming out to begin with. I suppose I had else on my mind which was probably what led to this moment. Earlier in the evening I'd felt invincible, truly powerful and filled with joy, and it had taken over my brain and clouded my judgement. It's almost like the robbers you hear about who fool the police over and over again, and at some point in time they start thinking that they're smarter than everyone and will never be caught. Of course that's when they forget something crucial which leads to their arrest. But instead of jail I was facing something far worse. This was my dad; my proud, manly dad who'd started liking me and letting me in on what he thought was the most wonderful thing in the world - _women_. But now he suddenly realised that the knowledge he had to offer was something I would never be interested in. Suddenly we had nothing in common and I was just a strange boy who'd been fooling him and turning my childhood's best friend gay when he wasn't looking. For a moment I felt his pain and it made me feel guilty.

"Dad it's... nothing!" I shouted as I had recovered from the first shock. I tumbled backwards in bed to get away from Alfred, but instead I hit my head on the wall and fell forward again. In my confusion I tried reaching for him, but he had already rolled out of bed. I landed onto the mattress and glared towards Dad still standing in the doorway. He wasn't looking at me. His gaze was fixated on Alfred who was hurrying to get his clothes back on as quickly as possible, but he gave up halfway and just grabbed his shoes off of the floor as he hurried past my dad.

"How dare you?" Dad asked him as he brushed past him. I heard the front door being opened and Dad turned towards the light from the stairway which clicked on as Alfred stepped out there. "How dare you do that here!" I could hear Alfred replying something, but I couldn't tell what. The noise of him rustling with his jacket drowned out the words.

"Get out!" Dad repeated.

"Dad!" I called again. I'd almost stiffened on bed, but now I forced myself up standing and hurried to the door. I pressed my head in underneath Dad's arm though he tried holding me back and I just managed to see Alfred's blond head disappearing down the stairs. "Wait, Alfred!"

"Don't dare coming back!" Dad shouted and he kicked the door shut. The smack almost vibrated throughout the flat and I could hear Mom shouting from the bedroom. It sounded like she'd just been woken up and soon the lights were on in the living room.

"What's going on?"

"Go back to bed," Dad said. His words seemed aimed at both Mom and I, but he nodded at her as she stepped out into the hallway.

She looked me up and down. "Arthur?" she asked confused and I pulled my shirt tightly around me. I looked down and tried not to shiver as she stepped closer, but I could feel the blood rushing through my body so quickly that it was hard just standing up straight. My pulse was going crazy and the heat was getting to my face and making it go bright red. I felt like crying and screaming at the same time, most of all I felt like grabbing my jacket and running out the door to catch up with Alfred, but I knew Dad was watching me and he was waiting for me to make a move. I could hear his deep, hesitant breathing as I kept quiet and Mom kept getting closer. She placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Is something wrong?"

As I still didn't speak, Dad moved Mom's hand away. "Go back to bed," he said. "I'll handle this."

"Handle what?" Mom asked.

"Yeah, what?" I asked bitterly. I knew it was a bad move the moment I looked up at Dad's face and saw his wrinkled brows, but I had already started talking back to him and stopping now would be cowardly. "Are you going to hit me? It can't be beaten out of me. That's just how I am."

"Shut up," Dad said, but it only added to my anger. My head had started hurting and my eyes were shimmery with water. My logic was telling me that the best move I could make now was to back into my room and close the door, but still my tipsiness overwhelmed me. I hadn't noticed it before, probably because it had felt good just minutes earlier as it had made me relax and kiss Alfred passionately, but now it just felt sour and sickening as it gave me the power to look Dad straight in the eyes and say:

"Fuck you."

"Arthur!" Mom gasped surprised. Her hands were immediately on Dad's arm as if he really was going to hit me and I tip-toed as I kept staring him in the eyes and continued:

"Really, fuck you." I was ready. I was sure he was going to smack me, but instead of sending a flying fist to my face, he pressed his hand to cover his own eyes as he sighed.

"Go back to bed, Arthur," he said and wriggled free of Mom's hold. We both blinked at him and my boiling anger paused for a second.

"What?" I said.

Mom pushed my door more open and whispered: "Come on, Arthur."

"We'll talk in the morning," Dad said and with that he turned around and started heading for the kitchen. Now Mom was the one blocking me from following him.

"We'll talk about what?" I yelled.

"Arthur, stop it," Mom whispered desperately and pushed me back into the room.

I fisted my hands and hammered them to the door as I shouted: "We'll talk now! Come back and fucking talk now!"

"Arthur!" I stepped backwards at Mom's shout and glared at her in disbelief. She hadn't even witnessed anything, but now I realised that she was looking scared. She had a hand on the handle and the other held up in front of her chest as if she was about to clench her heart into pieces. The look in her eyes told me that it had already been shattered. "Please stop," she whispered. She was on the verge of tears and I bit my inner cheek and looked away as I tried to calm myself down.

"You have nothing to do with this," I said. "Go away."

"As if I don't know..." She took in a deep breath and I glanced at her from the corners of my eyes as I crossed my arms. I was trying to judge if she really did know or not, but then she shook her head and pulled at the door. She cleared her throat. "We'll talk tomorrow," she said using Dad's words and then she closed the door. I watched the handle turning and then being left in upright position. It was something she used to do when I was a kid. It was her way of checking if I'd been up in the middle of the night running all over the house as I hadn't been able to tell back then how she left the handle. It felt almost insulting that she would assume that if she left it like this I wouldn't dare to go out the room. I almost wanted to push it down just to make her worry, but I felt too weak to move. The moment I heard her walk away from the door and down the hallway, I walked backwards until my legs met with the bed and then I allowed myself to simply collapse back onto it, my legs dangling over the edge and my hands covering up my face.

My cheeks were wet. I wasn't sure when I'd started crying, but my whole face was sticky and as I rolled over to lay on my stomach, I could suddenly feel how my throat was choking up sobs. I fisted my hands around my pillow and smacked it to the mattress over and over again before burying my head in it. "Fuck..." I whispered. I hoped I hadn't cried in front of Dad. I didn't want for him to think I was weak. I wanted for him to believe that I wasn't the slightest affected by it all and that I would just go out and continue being with Alfred no matter what he said. But I _was_ affected and it made me feel like a loser.

I started punching my fists into the wall instead of the pillow until my knuckles started hurting and throbbing from the pain. Then I rolled up on the middle of the bed and just stared into the dark. With my headache worsening, I laid pondering about Alfred. I wondered where he was and how he was getting home, and if he was worried about me or not. Then I thought of Mom standing all confused in the kitchen while trying to get Dad to speak about what he'd seen, and I imagined Dad kneeling in front of our toilet as he vomited from remembering what his son had just done in bed with another guy. It had been a perfect evening with drinking and fun and chatting, but now I was laying here in my room with tears down my face, listening to the muffled noises of Mom and Dad discussing in the kitchen. And right in that moment I felt awfully alone.

* * *

As I woke up my room was completely bright and I flinched and slipped back underneath the duvet to hide my eyes. My head was hurting and my body was feeling sore. I'd fallen asleep with all my clothes on and now I could feel the line of my jeans digging a thick, red line into my skin as well as my shirt hugging tightly at my sweaty armpits. I felt warm and disgusting, but I didn't want to leave my room to get a shower. I just felt like going back to sleep again and forget about everything that had happened the night before. But it was already on my mind and it was making my headache even worse.

I popped my head out from the duvet again and slowly started pushing it away. I'd forgotten to pull the curtains and as I peeked outside, I noticed how empty the parking lot beneath me was. It had to be late in the morning if not even early afternoon. I'd slept with no interruptions and I hadn't even had any nightmares. Still I didn't feel the slightest rested as I started pulling off my clothes and wiped my sweaty body off in the tee. I could hear noises from the kitchen. Someone had put on the kettle and plates and cutlery were being moved around. The radio was playing and that was often a sign of Dad being at home. Thinking about him made me feel sick and I grimaced and tried to ignore the monotone voice from the radio host as I quickly picked out some random clothes from my closet. I was about to slip into a fuzzy pair of jogging pants and a tee as I stopped myself and had a second glance at the shirt.

What if they were going to kick me out? The thought suddenly hit me and I just stared at my clothes. 'What if,' I thought, 'I'll be going to the kitchen and Dad will be there, and he'll ask me to pack my things and leave? Maybe not even pack anything. Just get out of the flat and find somewhere else to sleep.' My fingers started digging into the fabric of the shirt and I took in a deep breath through my nose. I didn't want for it to happen, but I knew it was a possibility. Not only was my dad so strict with his rules that he'd hit me once when he thought I was being unruly. But he also fitted the description of an intolerant parent which had been listed in one of Mom's many leaflets. I could vainly remember the backside of a blue one where there had been phone numbers and addresses listed, and one of them stated to call them in case things at home got violent and a shelter would be needed. For a moment I just stood imagining myself being pushed into a big dormitory together with a bunch of other gay guys who were all abandoned by their family. But then I shook my head and threw the shirt back in.

"Man up," I told myself with a huff. I stuffed the jogging pants in behind the tee and instead put on some common jeans and a hooded shirt. I wanted to look casual, but still be ready to leave if things got out of hand. My imagination was already messing with me and making my heartbeat speed up as if I was about to participate in a marathon. My whole body started buzzing. "Calm down," I whispered and kept repeating it in my head as I grabbed the handle, but as I noticed that it had been moved since Mom put it up the day before, nothing about me was calm. It's possible it just fell during the night, after all the door wasn't exactly new. But of course I started imagining Mom and Dad sneaking into my room at night, though I couldn't explain what they should be doing. I was making myself crazy with all my guessing games and hurriedly opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

Mom and Dad were chatting in the kitchen. At first I thought it would be about me, but as I slipped alongside the wall to be as quiet as possible, I didn't hear my name mentioned even once. Mom was saying something about shopping and I heard Dad mumble:

"We need to buy apples as well."

It seemed surreal and I had to look into the kitchen just to assure myself that my dad really was just standing there with Mom while putting together a shopping list. She was in her robe while he was dressed for work. I assumed he would be leaving soon.

I stopped in the doorway and just quietly watched them for a moment. Mom was looking tired as she added things onto the list, but Dad appeared normal. He didn't look like someone whose family life had just turned for the worse. I almost fooled myself to believe that maybe I'd been dreaming it all and it hadn't really happened, but then Mom spotted me and gave me a weak smile, and Dad turned and looked me up and down as if I was a stranger intruding on his territory. There was nothing imaginary about the sour look he gave me.

"Good morning," Mom said and stood up. She reached over by the sink and pulled out a plate with toast, sliced ham and cheese and a cut up apple on it. "I made you breakfast." She hadn't done that in years. I slowly walked over there and took the plate.

"Thanks..." I mumbled and looked at it.

"We're going shopping. Is there anything you need?" Mom asked and I leaned back against the kitchen counter as I glared at them in disbelief. I was sure she had to be kidding me, but she was calmly looking at me while holding the pen. "Anything at all?" she asked.

I picked up a slice of ham and put it on my toast as I shrugged and mumbled: "No." Mom turned back to the paper.

"Beer," Dad said and she wrote it down. "We need more toast too." I glared at both of them. Supposedly this should be the dream scenario after all I'd messed up, but it didn't feel right and as Dad zipped his jacket to get going, I put my plate down.

"Is that it?" I asked and Dad slowly ripped the note out of the book. He folded it and put it in the pocket of his trousers. "You're just going to pretend nothing happened?" I looked from Dad to Mom and then back at him again. Mom didn't look at me. She was fiddling with her pen and clutching tightly onto it. She was doing her best to distract herself from what I was saying. "We're just going to go on like this as if I'm not g-"

"You're not gay," Dad interrupted me. It almost blew the air out of my lungs because it came so suddenly. Mom started shaking and looking up at the ceiling while whispering something I couldn't hear.

I glared at Dad. "Not gay?" I repeated and gritted my teeth together. "Gee Dad, where have you been for the past few years."

"Don't get cheeky with me." He turned and looked at me, this time fully facing me. He looked big. I hadn't noticed, but he had started changing since we moved to the flat. He wasn't as often at home anymore but always down at the pub. Drinking had made his belly grow visibly and it was hanging down over the buckle in his belt. He looked scary, like a giant, and as he stepped close to me, I backed up against the counter and held onto its sides so harshly my fingers turned white. He wanted to make me feel like a helpless kid and he almost managed, but staring up into his eyes I tried reminding myself that I wasn't. I wasn't a kid and Dad couldn't make the decisions for me anymore.

It was almost as if he'd been able to hear what I was thinking, because he pointed a fat finger to my chest and said: "I have the last say in what goes on."

"I'm not a child," I whispered and then cleared my throat. I raised my voice. "I'm seventeen. I can decide for myself."

"Not as long as you're in my house!" Dad said and poked his finger deeper into my chest.

I grimaced: "So that's it? Whatever you say is law?"

"I've clearly been too kind." He moved his finger away and stepped back. This time I followed him.

"What do you mean, too kind?" I asked. "It wouldn't have been different had you grounded me every day. I'm just like this."

"No, you're not!" Dad swirled around and glared at me. I could hear Mom breathing behind me. She'd moved closer to the doorway to follow us and probably prevent anything from happening, but she wasn't saying anything. Mom who'd bought home all those leaflets and read all those facts and who should know that being gay was not a choice, - she was keeping quiet right next to me as Dad roared. "You weren't this disrespectful as a kid!" Dad said. "But then you got those strange friends and you started behaving strange."

"That's called being a teenager!" I shouted and blinked. I hadn't expected him to bring that up now, but it seemed it had been on his mind for quite a while.

"It's called being stupid!" Dad shouted back at me. He leaned in until he was just an inch from my face. "Are you ill?" he asked and I felt all air getting caught up in my throat. I just stood gawking. "Are you mental? Do you need help? Because it sure as hell looks like it."

"Please don't," Mom whispered but only I could hear it. I was staring at my own reflection in Dad's eyes. I looked scared and though I don't remember shaking, I probably was. I remember my heart beating and my breathing quickening and my sight slowly turning blurry.

"I'm not ill," I said. Dad took in a deep breath. Then he stood up and grabbed at his head.

"I'm so stupid," he growled and turned around. He went into the hallway to get his bag. I hesitated at first, Mom's hands pulling at me from behind, but then I slipped out of her grip and followed. "All this time it was... Stephan and Alfred and all those guys."

"His name is Evan," I said, "not Stephan. And we didn't have anything together. He was just _a friend_ , Dad." I didn't know why it mattered so much to me, but suddenly it did. I didn't want for him to think I just ran from guy to guy and acted out. I didn't want for him to start blaming everyone else on how I ended up. "I just-"

"Was it Alfred?" Dad asked and turned around. He was holding his bag now while standing by the front door.

I blinked: "Alfred?"

"I thought he was a good guy." Dad shook his head and took in a shaken breath. I could tell he was in distress. He didn't know what to say and do, and that's when I realised that he was blaming himself. Dad was blaming _himself_ for driving me into Alfred's arms. It seemed so stupid I felt like hitting him for even considering it.

"Alfred never did anything!" I assured him and fisted my hands by my sides. "If anything I forced him to come out! Oh yeah, and by the way – his parents _didn't mind_."

"But I do!" Dad shouted and hammered his bag backwards into the door. It was almost forced open by his shove and I stepped away in surprise. Dad was rubbing his eyes and trying to calm himself down, but it wasn't working. " _I_ care!" he yelled. "And I won't be seeing you ruining your own life!"

"I'm not ruining it!" I protested and Dad rushed forward and grabbed me by the collar. Mom screamed in the kitchen and Dad let go of me immediately, but I was already feeling hurt. I stumbled into the wall and held my hands up in front of me as protection, but it wasn't needed.

Dad pointed to me and shouted: "I won't have it! Not here, not anywhere!" He hammered his bag into the wall once again. I think he needed something to hit and since it wasn't going to be me, his bag was closest. He did it twice and then he rubbed his eyes again. "You can't see him."

"Dad!"

"Arthur, please stop," Mom begged. It seemed absurd in the situation to tell me to calm down, and I just stared at her as if she was dumb.

"I don't want him in my home, I don't want you seeing him at school, at his place. You can't talk. I want you straight back home from class doing your homework and helping out Mom." Dad took in a deep breath. "You'll soon be done with school and you won't have to see each other again. Don't make a big deal out of it and don't try anything funny. There _will_ be consequences from now on."

I was stunned. "How dare you," I whispered, but Dad was done. He turned around at that, opened the front door and left for work.

I was hollow inside. Completely lost for words and with a turmoil of emotions running through my veins and messing with my heartbeat. I was angry; Dad had just denied what was a big part of me which I'd struggled with for years and he'd calmly listed how I was not to see Alfred anymore. Add to that he didn't want for me to make a big deal out of it. If this wasn't something to be angry about, then what was? But I was also sad. No matter what he said and did, this was my dad, the same man who'd recently told me that he couldn't imagine having a better son than I. Now he probably regretted those words.

But most of all I was confused. Everything had happened so quickly and in such a hurry that it seemed I'd only just left my bedroom. Yesterday seemed far away, but this seemed as if it hadn't even happened. Still nothing was the same now and nothing would ever be like yesterday morning when I woke up excitedly and without a worry in the world.

I sunk back against the wall and rubbed my head. My hand was shaking and Mom slowly walked out to me and tried looking me in the eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked and I shook my head.

"He hates me," I whispered. "And he hates Alfred."

"I know," she said and tried hugging me. I moved away.

"Why didn't you do anything?" I asked. I couldn't breathe properly. I had to lean back against the wall again and just let her hug me as I gasped for air. I was so angry it seemed my lungs were working against me. "Why didn't you _say_ anything? You knew! You knew and shut up!"

"I tried my best," she said and hugged me tightly. I wriggled and rubbed my eyes to her shoulder before she let go of me. "I asked you over and over to let me help you. Arthur, I did – don't shake your head at me."

"That was weeks ago, no, months!" I shouted and glared at her with anger. "Why didn't you say anything? Do you agree with him?"

Mom bit her lower lip and sighed: "I've asked you to tell me. I asked you just the other day and you... you didn't want my help."

"I was scared!" I shouted. I couldn't believe her, but Mom wasn't kidding around. She looked broken, but I wasn't the one to fix her.

"Listen to your dad," she said. "It's only for a few more months." I ripped at my hair and shook my head.

"I can't believe it. You're with him. You agree with him," I whispered and hammered my head back into the wall.

Mom looked away as she whispered: "I'm sorry." Then she walked into the living room and just left me there. The television was turned on. She was going through the channels while I stood fuming in the hallway. I didn't know what to do, so like a coward I did nothing. I acted as if I didn't care about what Dad had just said by grabbing my jacket and leaving the flat, but instead of running somewhere, I merely climbed the stairs to the next floor and sat down on the landing. I just sat there staring out into the air, thinking about how unfair life was and what was to be of me. I almost wished that Dad would've just hit me so that I could've turned him into the police and maybe be placed somewhere else. In my imagination things were far more dramatic than in real life and I almost got engulfed in my own thoughts sitting out there, but I kept an eye on the time and made sure to be back inside before Dad came home. I didn't see him. I went into my room, closed the door and heard him enter with the groceries. Mom made dinner and the two of them ate alone in the living room. She called for me once, but I didn't react and she didn't check on me.

I didn't want to see her. I hated Dad and I hated her for not standing up to him. I thought that my family was rotten to the core and that all you can really count on are your friends. But they all lived so far away. How was I going to get in touch with any of them before Monday at school?

* * *

The next morning I was up early. I showered before Dad even woke up and was back into my room by the time his alarm beeped. I got dressed while he had his breakfast and then I sat listening by the door for him to be done. I heard him finish off in the kitchen, showering, getting dressed and then the sound of the heavy key as he left the flat and locked. Five minutes later I heard a car leaving the parking lot and I jumped up and out of my room. I would have between five and six hours before he would be back from his Sunday-shift and I wasn't about to waste a second of them.

I still had some money in my pocket, so I got on the bus and bought a ticket to the village. It was a long, slow drive and I just sat in the back watching the buildings passing by while thinking about Alfred. I hoped he was at home, but I couldn't check it. If we'd had a computer at home, I could've written him an e-mail and had I had my own phone, I would've called him. But I didn't dare to use the home phone now. What if Dad went through the bill and saw that I'd called him? I wasn't sure what consequences he'd been talking about, but I was sure that I didn't want to find out. So all I could do was to cross my fingers and impatiently watch the time as the bus slowly crept closer to the village.

I got off two stops early and ran the rest of the way. I wasn't sure what I was going to say when seeing Alfred, but I assured myself that it would all come to me when he opened the door. Everything in me screamed for being held by him and told that things were going to work out alright, so as I crossed their garden and hurried to the front door, I couldn't understand why no one opened as I knocked. I tried again. No answer. I rung the doorbell three times before stepping back and glaring at the handle. It didn't move one bit and I couldn't hear anyone behind the door either. As I leaned to the side and peeked in through the window to the living room, I noticed that it was dark in there and that everything was turned off.

"Please be home," I whispered as I pressed my face to the window to get a better look, but my hope was already vanishing. I walked around the hedge to the garage and saw that the car wasn't there. It could be that they had all just gone shopping for groceries and would be back in half an hour, but considering how early in the morning it was, they had more likely headed out on a trip and wouldn't be back until in the evening. I couldn't wait around for that long.

I walked back to the bus stop and sat watching the sky, and I started pondering about how funnily life had worked out for me. Back in the village even the smallest thing had seemed dramatic, like when Alfred and I went to buy a porn magazine or when we mixed blood on the bench in front of the supermarket. But they had all been petty things compared to what I'd experienced within the last year. I'd lost Alfred as a friend, gained him again as a boyfriend, been in and out of popularity at school and now, as all those things had settled, a new drama had started up with Mom and Dad. It seemed that life for a gay boy was never going to be easy, but still Alfred's ride had been much smoother. Maybe it was because he liked girls too. It seemed to calm people to know that someone wasn't just completely gay. It had worked for Alfred, Scott and Daniel. I couldn't help but to ponder if Dad would've been more accepting had he seen me have a girlfriend before getting it on with Alfred. Maybe he would've thought that at least there was a chance that I would end up with a girl and lead a normal life.

But now as I'd come out as gay to him and he'd seen everything himself, I couldn't play on that lie. Dad now knew that I was never going to do anything that he would consider worthwhile like marrying a woman, getting her pregnant and fill up a house with kids. Instead I was going to move together with another man and just live my life growing old with him. It sounded so lovely and easy, and maybe that was what Dad didn't like about it – that it was _easy_. Life had always been tough for him and he'd worked hard to make a good living for the three of us, that I knew for sure. He'd probably hoped that I would go through the same as he did, and imagining that I would have completely different struggles from himself was so out of line that he wouldn't even try to cope with it. But I think I could've learned to live with that had Mom at least shown me support. The fact that she'd just been standing there while Dad shouted at me and blamed me for being a gay nutcase was too much for me to handle, so as I sat there waiting for the bus, I decided that if I didn't matter to her, neither would she to me. Of course it didn't work in that way, but I told myself that it did and as the bus arrived and I got back onto it, I wanted to do anything but to head back home to where she was.

But what should I do? It had taken an hour for me to get to the village and back onto another bus. I still had plenty of time to spend, but I knew I didn't want to waste the hours by myself. I'd wanted to talk to someone and if it wasn't going to be Alfred, then it had to be someone else. I just wasn't sure who would be able to understand everything that was going on.

* * *

"Arthur? What are you doing here?"

Scott opened the door with a confused, tired look to his eyes. He was still in his boxers and a crumbled tee, and I guessed he'd only just gotten out of bed. He rubbed his eyes and looked at me again after blinking. I gave him an awkward smile: "Hey Scott."

I hadn't known where else to go. Matthew's house was too far away and I'd never been there, so I wasn't even sure I would be able to find it. Scott's house, however, was close to the main street of the town and as I'd gotten off the bus by the park, it had seemed like a natural place to go.

"Is something wrong?" he asked and looked me up and down. I probably didn't look like someone in desperate need of a chat; I was dressed like normally, looked clean and had no signs of bruising or anything else that could've given away just how confusing my home life had suddenly gotten. But as I nodded, he didn't hesitate stepping aside and letting me in.

"Thanks. Are you alone?" I asked and took off my shoes.

"Mom's here, but she's doing work in the kitchen. What's up, Arthur? Seriously, this better be good." Scott closed the door and watched me as I took off my jacket and put it on a hanger. "I was out with the guys yesterday. I'm still a bit hung over and I really want to sleep." Scott started running his hand all over his face to emphasize how wasted he was.

I looked up at him and said: "Dad caught me with Alfred." Scott's hand immediately fell and he looked wide awake.

"What? Fuck. What, no, seriously?" He blinked at me, clearly looking for a joke to come but I had none. This was the truth and as Scott realised it, he quickly led the way to his room.

"Who is it?" his mom called from the kitchen.

"Just a friend, no one!" Scott called back and almost pushed me into his room. I stumbled forward and turned around as he locked the door. His gaze was resting on me. "This is not a joke?" he asked.

I shook my head: "No, sadly not." I sat down on the edge of his bed and sighed. It had been long since I was last in Scott's room and my gaze slipped across the fine, clean edges of his furniture. I noticed the pictures from the time he was swimming were gone, but that was all I saw. I didn't really care at the time.

Scott sat down next to me on the bed and watched me closely. I know he was waiting for me to explain myself, but I hadn't prepared anything to say. Instead I just hung my head and said nothing. "Is it bad?" he asked after a while and I nodded.

"I think so. I mean, it's weird. Mom didn't say anything, but Dad flat out told me that I wasn't gay and that I'm not allowed to see Alfred anymore."

"Did he do anything? Did he hit you?" Scott asked and as I shook my head no, I could hear him breathe out in relieve. "Jeez..."

"He said there would be consequences if I break his rules. Whatever that means."

"But he didn't hit you?"

"No," I replied again with slight annoyance to my voice. "He _didn't_. Why is it so important? Isn't it good enough that he pretty much rejected me?" I glared at Scott and his head sunk a bit down between his shoulders.

"Right, sorry. I was just concerned," he said and leaned back onto the bed. I rested my head between my hands and eyed the floor. "What about Alfred?"

"I don't know," I mumbled. "Dad threw him out as he saw us. He wouldn't let me follow. I didn't know what to do, I spent all of yesterday just thinking."

"He hasn't tried getting in touch with you?" I shook my head. "Man..." Scott mumbled. I hadn't even thought of that, but now that Scott mentioned it, it bugged me a little. Alfred should know that I would be having a difficult time now that Dad had seen us, and still he hadn't even left a message on the answering machine. Was he too scared of my parents? I didn't think he was, especially not when knowing I was the one to take all their blame. "I'm sorry to hear that. Must be rough that they don't like it."

"It doesn't really matter." I straightened up and tried to harshen my voice, and Scott sat back up in bed. I glared at the window in his room as I continued speaking: "I don't care about them. If they don't like me, they can fuck off."

"You don't really mean that," Scott said and shook his head at me. My hands were fisted in my lap and I grabbed at my jeans and tugged at the fabric while nodding.

"Yes I do."

"Then why are you crying?"

I was crying. Not sobbing or howling out aloud, but surely crying. I wiped my cheeks off in my sleeve and sniffed in through my nose. It seemed to have blocked suddenly. "I really don't care," I said, but my tough voice was gone and as Scott gently patted my shoulder, I broke down. All the energy I spent Saturday trying to pull myself back up and which I used this morning to get going was suddenly gone. I was suddenly weak again and not a tough teen who wanted to make his own decisions and live life despite what my parents thought. I wanted for Dad to keep calling me his son and for Mom to smile and accept me going to town with Alfred, and I wanted for my sexuality not to matter at all.

Scott comforted me. He told me all the things I'd hoped that Alfred would tell me; he said that I was okay, that my parents just needed time to adjust, that everything would turn out okay in the end because they always seemed to do. Somehow it even felt good having him and not Alfred saying it. After all Alfred was a bit of a dork and he would do whatever it took to make a situation seem okay again even if he had to lie. Scott, however, could be rather harsh sometimes and though I doubt that he would've told me that I was doomed, even if everything had seemed to be against me, I think that he truly believed it as he gave my back a pat and claimed that things would be back to normal again in a week's time.

As I left Scott's place two hours later, I felt ready to face Mom. He followed me all the way to the bus stop and watched me get on, telling me firmly to come to him if anything was to go wrong. "You know I don't really understand everything that goes on between you two," he said, "but that doesn't mean I don't care, Arthur."

"I know," I said. "Thanks." I couldn't help but to wonder if I'd been an ass to Scott. He really was a good guy and maybe it had been wrong of me to push Alfred onto him the way I had. They had been friends until I came and messed it up between them, so it wasn't like he'd always had issues with Alfred. Though they still weren't best friends, he was still the one standing by the bus stop as I drove back home. It made me feel good and I decided that I would try my best to understand people around me better instead of just pushing my own view onto them.

But of course this decision had to be challenged the moment I got home.

Dad still wasn't there, but Mom was in the hallway as I opened the door. She was standing with her back to me, but she swiftly turned around as I closed the door and her face shun of relieve. "Arthur!" she said and walked over to hug me, but then she let go of me again and angrily growled: " _How dare you_?"

I stepped aside confused and started unzipping my jacket. "What do you mean, how dare I? I just went for a walk." I put my jacket up while Mom walked to the kitchen. I could hear her throwing around things out there and I didn't even bother with my shoes as I followed her. I assumed this had to do with Dad's new rules, but I didn't think she would take the matter this personally. Mom was the kind to let things just go in over her head if that would calm a situation, but there was nothing collected about her. As I peeked out into the kitchen, I saw her standing with her hands buried in the dishwater in the sink while staring out the window. "Mom?" I asked. "Mom, what did I do?" I crossed the doorstep and she turned around in the same as if she could sense that I was coming closer. Her face was red with anger.

" _Don't_ stand there all innocently," she said and slapped a wet cloth onto the table. I looked at it as she started rubbing it to a round circle from a coffee cup, her movements frustrated and without clear aim.

"What do you mean?" I asked puzzled, but then I slowly guessed: "Is this about the thing with Alfred?"

"Oh, don't you dare, don't you _dare_ ," Mom spat. I felt the blood in me freeze. I'd never seen Mom this angry before in my life. Surely she had yelled at Dad and I before, but I'd never seen her lose it like this. Not even yesterday did she have this strong a reaction to everything that happened, and I had no idea why a walk would make her this distressed.

She stopped working on the circle and stood back up, pressing the cloth to her chest as she still glared at me.

"Mom, please tell me what's wrong," I begged.

"It was _so_ embarrassing," she said while shaking her head. " _So_ embarrassing, Arthur."

"What was?"

"Oh, you know _what_!" She slammed the cloth back onto the counter and leaned forward to stare into my eyes. I must have blinked several times. I was completely lost. "Alfred's family coming by as if we're some sort of bad parents. And there you are, gone! It was all planned, wasn't it? All to make me look bad. I know I haven't always been as supportive as them, but did I really deserve _that_ , Arthur, did I?" She seemed to be on the verge of crying, but she kept it in.

I gawked: "Alfred's parents were here?" She leaned back against the counter and sighed. "When?" I asked. I was stunned. At most I'd expected Alfred to call, but not for anyone to show up here. I wondered what he'd told them, but most of all I wondered what they'd told Mom. She looked like she was slowly realising that I had nothing to do with it all, but it only seemed to pain her all the more. She turned her back to me and stared out the window.

"Alfred called all of yesterday," she said and I moved closer. "Your dad said not to pick up. They must have gotten worried but, oh God..." She leaned in over the sink and hid her head behind her hands. Only now did I realise that her redness was not only due to anger, but also embarrassment. She was shaking her head.

"Did they actually turn up here?" I asked and she nodded.

"It was so embarrassing... I mean, they could tell nothing was wrong, they could tell from looking at me, Arthur. But Alfred insisted and then you weren't in your room... I didn't know where you were." She looked at me and I looked down. I felt an extreme guilt starting to work up inside of me. I could vividly imagine Alfred standing out there demanding to see me while his parents told him to calm down, just wanting to have an adult conversation about it all. Mom must have been overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry," I said, because it was the only thing I knew how to say. Mom shook her head as if it didn't matter.

"I'm so embarrassed..."

"When did they leave?" I asked.

"Long ago. Two hours I think."

"I'm really sorry," I said again. Mom placed her hand on top of mine and squeezed it lightly. It was the first sign of comfort from her within these past days which seemed honest.

"Your dad doesn't like it," she said. "I don't know what to think or do, but he doesn't and I have to support him in that. Do you understand?" I didn't. I didn't understand why she had to take his side and not mine, but I just nodded. She squeezed my hands even tighter. "Please tell Alfred not to call here. I don't want him showing up again with your dad around. I don't know what could happen, I..."

"It's okay," I said as she ran out of words to speak. "I'll talk to him tomorrow." Mom nodded and then slowly she wrapped her arms around me and gave me a weak hug. Hesitantly I closed my arms around her waist and returned the gesture. I could feel her breathing steadily. She was calming down.

"Just please don't think less of me," she said as she let go of me again. I didn't answer, but she wasn't waiting for a reply either. She turned back to the dishwater and started rummaging through it, and I took it as my sign to leave.

I went back into my room and closed the door, then sat down on the floor as I untied my shoes. Alfred had been here. That was all that was on my mind. Alfred called and called and, as he didn't get through, he convinced his parents to go check up on me. That's why they weren't at home. That's why I had to go to Scott instead.

I huddled up against my bed and looked around my room. I felt bad for my mom. I knew that she probably found the situation extremely unpleasant, but still a little ball of joy was warming me up inside. Alfred _had_ cared and so had his parents, even if I imagined them to be less excited than himself. And even Mom seemed to care, though she didn't know how to deal with it. The only person who seemed persistent on messing things up was my Dad.

He returned home three hours later. During dinner I sat waiting for Mom to reveal what Alfred had done to her, but she kept quiet. She just chatted about cleaning and told him that I'd done the dishes. He didn't comment on it, he barely even looked at me for the whole evening, but at least that meant that we avoided an argument and I didn't want to spend my energy yelling at him. There was a certain blond haired guy who deserved it all the more.


	28. 28

The following morning I didn't get to see Alfred right away. I stayed in bed while listening to Dad getting ready in the bathroom, having his breakfast and then leaving the flat before getting up to go to school. Though I wasn't worried about getting into a fight with him, I wasn't keen on catching his bad mood this early in the morning. Instead I took my time showering and brushing teeth, and I even flossed for five minutes before forcing myself to the bus stop accompanied by Mom's worried mumblings about me being late.

I was late. I was very late. Half an hour into class I found myself stuck in the hallway as Mr Wagner had locked the door and he didn't let me inside until I thoroughly had apologised to the rest of the class for ruining their concentration. I don't think I did much damage – the girls in the back had notes from their friends spread out all over their notebooks and some of the guys were sitting daydreaming and flickering through magazines hidden behind their open school books. My petty apology only made them snicker and for once look up at the blackboard. I think I somehow gained a little respect from them for once being late.

At lunchtime I was heading towards the library to return a book as Alfred caught up with me from behind. He was panting and sweating from having run all over looking for me, and he gave me a worried glare as I finally looked him in the eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked and his hand unwillingly fluttered in the air. I think he wanted to hug my shoulder before reminding himself that we were in public. Instead he bumped his fist to my arm before letting his hand drop.

I shrugged and mumbled: "I guess."

"Why weren't you with the bus this morning?"

"I was, I was just late."

"Okay, why weren't you in your room yesterday?"

"Because I was out looking for you. Why were _you_ in my room?"

"What do you mean?"

We stopped in front of the library and stared at each other. I'd decided to be angry at Alfred, but now, as I was looking at his confused face, I found it hard to keep up this game of play-pretend. Instead I sighed and waved with the book in my hand. "Well, you really upset Mom. She thought I was there as well, but I'd already left looking for you. I knocked on your door and everything."

"Oh man," Alfred mumbled and awkwardly scratched his neck, "that's dumb. I was at yours."

"I know, as said Mom wasn't too happy. She thinks you embarrassed her by showing up with your parents."

"Well, someone had to drive me." We walked into the library together and Alfred watched as I checked in the book. His lips were stretched into an unreadable grimace. "...are _you_ embarrassed?" he asked after a bit of hesitation and I shook my head.

"No. I was angry," I said, but then I quickly assured him: "Not anymore though."

"Oh good!" Alfred breathed relieved.

"But I'm still in trouble," I reminded him and tightened the strap on my back.

Alfred wrinkled his brows and asked: "What kind?" and I started telling him about Dad as we slowly walked back into the hallway and upstairs towards the empty classrooms on the third floor. I told him about how angry he was (but assured him I wasn't beaten, something Alfred seemed to find hard to believe), and I told him about the talk with Mom and how she'd wanted for me to not blame her for anything. For some reason I didn't mention my chat with Scott. I wasn't even sure if I left it out on purpose, but Alfred didn't seem to notice my story lacking a scene. By the time we'd closed the door to a classroom and settled down by the windowsill, he was chewing on a piece of gum with his brows knitted tightly together in ponder.

"Oh wow," he mumbled. I'd just finished my story telling him how Dad had warned me about how there would be consequences if I were to break his rules. That last story had gotten him pretty quiet. "That's a freaky family you've got there."

"I know," I said and glanced outside. Below us was the yard. I watched as some of Alfred's friends played football by the sheds. I didn't know what more to say and I just watched the ball in silence until Alfred's fingers closed around my wrist and he tugged at my arm. As I looked at him, he sent me a faint smile.

"It's going to be okay," he said and I blinked surprised, because he said it so softly and suddenly that it almost didn't make sense in the situation.

"Uh, okay?" I stuttered awkwardly. Alfred let go of my wrist but only to grab my hand between both of his. He gave it a squeeze.

"Really," he said.

I must have stuttered again as I hesitantly breathed: "Why are you saying this?" It was the kind of thing you say to someone who's about to cry. But I wasn't about to cry. It seemed I'd squeezed every ounce of water out my eyes for the past two days and I couldn't manage anymore. I wasn't sad, but I wasn't empty or hollow or something dramatic either. I was just tired of it all and looking for a normal talk, but then Alfred started comforting me in a manner I didn't expect from him. And that's when I realised it; Alfred wasn't comforting me. He was comforting himself.

Surely he was holding my hand and smiling at me, and he wasn't crying either or shaking. But he was looking lost, confused and not very strong. Like that night when Dad barged into our room and demanded that he left. He hadn't said anything about how he felt, but I bet he thought of himself as a coward. Alfred didn't like walking away from fights, his encounters with Scott had surely shown that, and there's no doubt it wouldn't have done any good had he stayed to confront my dad. But he could still be ashamed and he could still be worried. After all I had been living with my parents knowing their weird way of looking at the world and somehow, even though it hurt to realise, I had expected them not to understand my sexuality because they'd never really understood me as a person anyway. But Alfred's parents were loving and understanding. Having a grown man screaming in his face was a new thing for him and as I thought about all of this, I couldn't help but to wrap my arms around him and press my face to his neck.

"I know," I said. "I know it'll all be okay." He rubbed his nose to the top of my ear and his fingers dug into the back of my shirt.

"Yeah. It will, right? I mean-" His voice trailed off and I nodded so that my chin rubbed to his skin before saying:

"Of course it will."

* * *

Things were already better in a lot of ways. We spent the break by ourselves in the room just chatting and stealing a kiss now and then, and Alfred's hand had started roaming up and down my back as we suddenly heard students coming running up the stairs to get ready for class. We left in a hurry and both decided to skip the next lecture. Instead we found three other guys from PE who'd done the same and were hiding at the benches outside. We hung out with them like a pair of normal friends hanging out with normal friends, and I felt normal, just like any other teenage guy seeing the end of high school approaching and we chatted about the future as if we could do whatever we wanted to. When Alfred laughed and grinned at me, I felt that maybe we really could do whatever. I came to think of all these books I'd read about people just leaving their old lives behind to go on road trips and find a new way of existing, and I wondered if maybe that's what we could do – get a car, slam on a good CD and just disappear somewhere in England. The thought alone made my heart beat faster.

But before anything else we would first have to get out of school.

As my last class had ended, I found Alfred waiting for me by the gates. He was sitting astride on his bike waving the moment he saw me and I walked over and swung my bag in over the handlebars. He almost dropped his bike at the extra weight. "Thanks asshole," he snorted.

"Are you about to head home?" I asked and he nodded.

"Yeah. Either that or head through town. But I thought I would wait for the bus with you."

"Sure." I popped my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket as we slowly made our way down the street. Alfred was watching the sky and whistling a tune I didn't know. I was watching his face meanwhile. "What do your parents think about all this?" I asked after a bit.

Alfred blinked: "About us?"

"No, about that night with Dad. How much did you tell them?"

"Well..." Alfred seemed to give it a good thought. He was trying to look like he'd just forgotten everything they talked about, but I was sure he was trying to make it sound as innocent as possible not to make me mad. "I told them... Okay, I told them we were tipsy and that your dad caught us kissing. That's it. But of course I was worried if he'd hit you. They didn't think so, but when you didn't pick up, well, even Mom got worried then."

"I can imagine," I mumbled. We'd reached the bus stop and I sat down on the bench as I glared down the road. "And when I wasn't there-?"

"Hmm..." Alfred leaned his bike up against the side of the bench as he took a seat himself. "I mean, they could tell nothing was up. Your mom was normal and everything. She was happy to show us your room and such. We kind of guessed that you'd taken off to see a friend and well, you were," we smiled at each other at that, "but they didn't do more about it."

"They must think we're a messy couple," I said and stretched my arms up high in the air.

Alfred laughed: "They're one themselves!" I was about to ask him why, but then I remembered the long story with Matthew. I decided not to say anything. Instead I kicked the ground. "What do you think would happen if you came home late from school?" Alfred asked as I didn't speak up. His question made me grimace.

"Maybe then he would break both my arms!" It was meant as an exaggerated outburst, but Alfred looked horrified. I rolled my eyes and bumped my shoulder to his. "No, relax," I said and quieted my voice a little. "I don't know, okay? He wouldn't hit me. I hope not anyway. But I don't know what he would do. I really don't."

"Better not find out," Alfred said. "Maybe he won't stay angry for too long." His words were pathetically optimistic, but I just nodded and got up as the bus approached from around the corner.

"Yeah, let's see." But as expected Dad could stay angry for a very long time.

* * *

My parents were professionals at keeping the mood at home just a bit too shaky for me to feel safe at any given time. For the next two weeks Dad mastered this skill to perfection; he wouldn't say a single mean word to me, raise his voice or do a threatening gesture, but something about the way he cut his beef at dinner would make me shiver, and the way he told Mom about his good-hearted, manly colleagues made me feel every story from work was a hint of the world being great when I wasn't around.

I tried to be a good boy and I could tell Mom was pleased with me. I did all my homework without any complaints and I went to school every day and came home from school without any delay. Alfred didn't call and I didn't call him, and our flat would have had as much action as a graveside had it not been for the loud films Dad sometimes watched in the evening when he came home from work. He would sit with a can of beer and a smelly shirt on as he watched bad guys being gunned down, all of them being fat, greasy men themselves and looking incredibly much like him. They behaved the same way too. Still he somehow managed to find things about the heroic main character that he could relate to and tell us about. When sitting at the table with Mom flickering through some magazine, he would sometimes loudly state things such as:

"That man takes care of a family, just like myself. And look at how they don't care! It's a wonder how guys like him stay heroes. It takes self control, I'm telling you." Mom wouldn't roll her eyes at him like I did. She would look at her magazine and not say a word, or she would get him another beer and kiss his cheek as if she agreed with everything he said. Sometimes I wondered what was going through her mind when she silently cleaned up after him and popped the empty cans into a big box by the kitchen. I wondered if she regretted having met Dad or if she was just sad she had me with him. Now she was tied to this family and I think she was reaching a point where she liked neither of us. I could often hear her slipping into the bathroom at night just to let the water run. At first I thought she fell asleep out there while trying to wash hands, but soon I figured she was just trying to quiet other sounds. The only sound I could think of was crying. Still I didn't feel bad for her – she'd abandoned me and now Dad had abandoned her through beer and extra hours at work. Maybe she was feeling what it was like to see the world change around you without having any influence on it yourself.

But at school I felt in control. Alfred's friends were my friends, and we all had fun at lunch. Having been out with them for one night had broken down the last wall between us and I didn't feel the least like a stranger when I sat down to eat sandwiches and listen to their stories about hot girls they'd dated and horrible horror films they'd watched. Sometimes they would grin at me and ask if I was dating some hot guy or if I would give one of them a go, and while Alfred got busy choking on his lunch, I would wink at them and ask them to meet me in the locker room at some random time of the day. It always made them laugh. Alfred's laugh was the loudest and most fake of them all, but I don't think the others noticed, not even when he rubbed his red cheeks to get them back to normal. I wondered if he would once reveal himself with his odd behaviour and it made me ponder what the other guys would really say if they found out their gay friend's best mate, straight jock Alfred, too was a fag. The one time I'd asked Alfred when alone with him, he'd not even dared to consider the question.

"No, damn, I don't wanna go there," he'd said with an avoiding tone to his voice.

"I didn't either, but I went," was my reply and he'd bitten his lip and mumbled something about us being different. Though I could've been rightfully insulted, I hadn't been. Our situations were different and even I couldn't deny that. Still I sometimes wished I could just give him a hug because I felt like it without worrying about anyone calling us a bunch of homos.

But things just couldn't run smoothly for me. Even a simple trip to the cinema turned out to be a big deal. It had been Stuart's idea. As class ended Friday afternoon he'd caught up with us by the bus stop together with some redhead I didn't know.

"It's a cool crime story with loads of gunfights," he said as he leaned up against the bench and gestured with his right hand as he talked. Alfred's eyes had immediately widened at the mention of guns – he loved anything on TV which involved people dying. "The tickets are cheap. You've got to come."

"I'll go," Alfred said and then he looked at me and snapped his fingers as he remembered. "Oh..."

"Yeah, I'm not sure," I said and smiled a little at Stuart and his friend.

"Why not?" the redhead asked. I wanted to tell them some awful lie about guests being over for dinner and me having promised Mom to be home in time to change, but of course Alfred had to chirp:

"He's in trouble with his dad," which made me look like a douche.

"With your dad?" Stuart asked and raised his brows. In my memory I noted to kick Alfred the next time I got the chance. For now I glared at him as I took in a deep breath and slowly nodded.

"Yeah, I... broke the telly."

"Wow, how?" The redhead was laughing.

I shrugged and smiled: "I was watching it one night. The whole night. It was an old one so I guessed it got overheated or something. It broke down. He's angry at me, so when he can't have fun watching telly, I can't have fun hanging out with friends," I slickly lied, but Stuart just shook his head.

"Who cares! Come on. It's two hours. You can just say you had to stay doing some homework or whatever."

"He won't believe that," I said and started getting up as the bus showed up down the road.

"Oh, come on," Stuart repeated.

They were all looking at me. Alfred was giving me an apologetic glance. Stuart and his friend were waving their brows encouragingly. I was unsure and it made my heart start beating faster. I could even feel how a vessel in my neck started pulsating. My brain was telling me to go home and be bored in my room, but somehow my lips moved and shaped the words:

"Okay then."

"Yes!" Stuart grinned.

"Really?" Alfred asked and I looked at him and shrugged.

"Yeah. Okay. It'll be fine," I said though I felt as worried as he looked. But the moment Stuart patted my back and started telling me in details just how great this storyline was, I forgot all about Dad and just happily followed them to the cinema, and I thought to myself: it can't be too bad! But the movie was horrible. And Dad was even worse.

* * *

I didn't even have to walk upstairs to our flat to know something was wrong. As I came running from the bus stop with my bag bouncing up and down my back, I could tell from far away that something had been placed in front of our complex. "Damn," I mumbled even before I got to see what it was but as I reached the bin and the stuff spread around it, I gasped a wholeheartedly: "Fuck!"

There were some of my books on art scattered all over the asphalt. They appeared to have been carried down the stairs and carelessly thrown from the doorway. Some of them were wet from a shower that had passed by as we were in the cinema, others looked to be okay. As I started collecting the most damaged of them, I noticed a few broken CDs in between them and a single notebook filled with drawings sticking out from the bin. I desperately grabbed at it and ripped it free. It had been stuck between the body and the lid of the bin and as I got it loose, the lid popped off and revealed something of much more value to me.

I gawked at the bomber jacket that had been stuffed down on top of all the garbage. There was my childhood memory covered in a partly eaten banana and some liquids I didn't want to know what were, and I dropped everything else I'd been holding onto and grabbed at the sleeve of it as I pulled it out. It was ruined; nothing had been torn apart, but the smell was of the kind that'll never leave a fabric and the fur around the top was sticky and had been rubbed shapeless. Somehow all the books and CDs didn't matter even half as much as the jacket. Seeing it in this state felt like getting a punch in the gut – it was as if all air left my lungs and I had to remind myself to breathe. Despite not having worn it for years, I suddenly felt a sting of pain in my heart and I hugged the jacket to my chest as I hurried inside and upstairs. With every step I took, I could feel my cheeks getting more and more flustered and my body burning with anger. This could only be the work of one man and all I could think was: how dares he! How dared he grab my stuff and throw it out as if it meant nothing? As I flung the front door open, I shouted:

"What is your fucking problem!"

The flat was relatively quiet. As I stomped down the hallway fuming, I finally heard the low sound of a radio playing and peeked out into the kitchen. Dad was sitting out there sipping his coffee with a calm look on his face and he didn't even flinch as I swung the jacket down onto the table in front of him. I took in a deep, shaky breath.

"How dare you!" I whispered angrily and Dad looked at me unimpressed.

"Go to your room."

"This is my stuff!" I shouted and slapped the jacket to mark my point. Dad leaned back in his chair and folded his arms as I continued: "You can't just throw it out!"

"I told you that if you were late, there would be consequences," he simply stated as if he'd done nothing wrong. It only made me even more upset. He was sitting there like a king watching a hopeless subject screaming for justice, and it made me angry that he couldn't even man up to show anger by my outburst. Did my emotions mean that little to him?

"What kind of bullshit is this?" I hissed and grabbed at the jacket. I almost shoved it in his face to make him see it better, but he slapped my hand out of the way and stood up.

"Don't make a scene."

"Easy for you to say!"

"Go to your room," he repeated, "I didn't throw out all your stuff."

"It doesn't matter!" I yelled. I'd dropped the jacket to the floor and it was now the only thing between us as we stood facing each other. Three weeks ago we stood at the exact same spots and back then Dad had been a roaring giant. Now he was just a stone statue waiting for me to be done with bothering him. "It's that you took _any_ of my stuff, that you _dared to_ -"

"I'm your dad!" he interrupted me. "I can do what fits me. This is not a debate, Arthur! This is simple parenting. Go to your room!"

"No I won't!" I screamed at him and felt my voice softening up shortly with a sob. Dad looked almost smug as that happened.

"Are you going to stand there crying now?"

"No I'm not!"

"Then what?"

"I don't know what then!" He was carefully pressing every button in me that had 'angry' written all over it. It was as if he wanted to see how far he could push me. It was like being in some form of sick therapy. I glared down at the jacket and grabbed it off the floor. "This means something to me," I said, my voice a bit shaken. I couldn't even shout. My lungs were burning and as painful as had I run a marathon in the last five minutes. Dad crossed his arms again.

"I know, because of _him_."

"I don't care what it's because of, it's mine. It's my stuff," I said and gritted my teeth together. I really did feel like crying. But I couldn't do it just yet. Dad was watching me closely.

"Everything in my home is mine," he said.

"Well, then maybe I don't want to live in this home!" I replied hastily.

Dad shrugged: "Fine. You can leave." And I tightened my grip around the jacket a bit more. I glared at him. I wasn't sure if he was joking, because he was acting way too calm. As he noticed my look, he added: "When you're here, you follow my rules. If you don't like them, you can live somewhere else."

"As if you wouldn't care," I said breathlessly and Dad sharply replied:

"I don't. The son I have won't break my rules." As he said it he glared at me with such harsh eyes that I knew exactly what to do. I should feel defenceless and horrified, but those last words he spoke made everything clear to me.

So I put on the jacket and wrapped the fabric around me as I said: "Fine. I'll leave," and I could tell the slight surprise in his eyes as I turned around and headed for the door. Soon he followed me.

"Where are you going?"

"Where do you think?" I spat and glared over my shoulder back at him. I was about to put on my shoes, but then I realised I'd been wearing them the whole time. Instead I opened the door and quickly marched out and jumped down the stairs.

"Good!" Dad shouted. "You can come back when you've gotten some sense in your head!" I landed on the ground floor and leaned back as I shouted.

"If I have sense, I stay away!" But he'd already closed the door. I was standing alone in the stairway wearing Alfred's jacket, and it was smelling so bad that I had to take it off the moment I was sure Dad wasn't going to come out again. Instead I dropped it to the floor and sat down on the last step as I rested my head between my hands and tried to understand what had just happened. My pulse was still beating out of control and it was making it hard for me to collect my thoughts, but one thing was clear; I couldn't go back. Maybe tomorrow or the day after, but going back up now would be like admitting defeat, and watching the jacket on the floor reminded me that he'd beaten me up so much emotionally that I would be a coward not to fight back. But I wasn't even 18 years old. What could I do? The fantasies about road trips were just that, fantasies. They weren't real. I would need money and some talent to make it in the big world, and right now I hadn't even finished high school. I could do nothing. I felt like a child.

"But you're not a child," I mumbled and forced myself to stand up. I picked up the jacket, swung it in over my shoulder and walked out. The books were still laying scattered all over and the CDs were still broken and the jacket still reeked, and I gritted my teeth together and slammed the jacket back on top of the bin before making my way back towards the bus stop. I told myself it was all just stuff and that things don't matter. I told myself that an adult has to let go of the past to see the future ahead. But as I got on the bus without Alfred's jacket, I still wept in the back while wondering where my childhood went.


	29. 29

I always imagined going to Alfred's place would feel like coming home. I guess it's because of how it always works out in the movies; if a child has been neglected, their best friend's place is always open to them and accepts them in like part of the family. But though Alfred's mom was quick to pull me inside when she found me weeping on her doorstep, and though his dad put an extra plate on the dinner table, I felt like I was a disturbance to their peace. I could sense it in the way they looked at each other with knowing eyes as if they've prepared for this moment and yet hoped it would never come.

I felt like I was seven years old again and waiting with the coach at football practice for Dad to come pick me up. I remember how the old man sighed and moaned the whole time because Dad had forgotten where I was at and had instead headed downtown for a beer. He was four hours late. In the meantime the coach was forced to spend time with me. He tried making jokes and play around with me, but even back then I could sense it - he would much rather if I'd been picked up on time and I couldn't blame him for it. Nor could I get annoyed at Alfred's parents for their forced smiles and sweaty palms. They didn't need me there but they were still going to fight the battle to keep me safe.

Alfred was glad to see me. He came bouncing down the stairs and lit up into a bright smile as he saw me standing in the hallway pulling off my shoes. "Wow, hey, I didn't know you were coming!" he chirped before I stood back up and he could see my red eyes and flustered cheeks. "Oh," he said and then another "Oh!" as he realised what the deal was.

"Yeah," I mumbled and glanced into the kitchen where his parents were preparing the dinner.

"What happened?" he asked and put a hand on my shoulder as we both walked into the living room to sit. The television was on and I stared at the news speaker as I tried to figure out a way to explain everything to Alfred. I wanted to be structured and logical, and I wanted not to get emotional over anything stupid.

But the first thing that came out of my mouth was: "I threw out the jacket."

Alfred blinked and sat down next to me in the sofa. "What jacket?"

"The one you gave me. I threw it out." I could feel myself choking up as I was saying it, but still Alfred looked clueless. "Damn it, Alfred, the bomber jacket," I hissed.

Alfred scratched the back of his neck. "Uh, why?" he asked calmly. I don't know what I'd expected him to do - jump up and down in anger before sending me back home to get it?

I took in a deep breath. "Okay, uh, yeah. When I came home, my things were all over. Not all my things, but he'd - my dad - thrown stuff from my room into the bin. Your jacket as well. It was all soaked and ruined and… I don't know. I couldn't handle it. I flipped." I covered my face with my hands as I bit my inner cheek not to start crying. "I'm really sorry," I mumbled.

Alfred put his arm around my shoulders and gave them a squeeze. "Hey," he whispered, "it was just a jacket."

"No, not that. But that too." I dropped my hands. I could feel myself shaking. I was warm and cold at once, and I didn't notice anything happening around me. I felt weird inside - as if it was all coming back to me suddenly and making a greater impact than it had when I was in the situation. "I'm sorry for the mess."

Suddenly a glass had been pushed into my face and Alfred's mom was handing me a pill. "It's a painkiller," she said. "Take it."

I nodded at her as I swallowed the pill, downing all the water in one go. She turned to Alfred in the same.

"Go get a duvet for Arthur. And a pillow."

"But…" Alfred looked like he was about to protest, but he patted my back and then sent me a sorry look. He would rather stay with me, but he hurried upstairs to get things done. His mom waited for him to be out of the room before she sat down next to me, her hand on the same spot on my back as Alfred had had his.

"Are you better?" she asked.

My throat was hurting a little, but my heart wasn't hammering to my chest anymore. I licked my lips from water and nodded. "Yes. Thank you."

"Do you need us to pick up any of your stuff?" she asked and I shook my head.

"No, I think it's better if he's left to himself," I said.

She stroked my back as I stared into the glass. I couldn't make myself look at her. She was kind and it made me feel bad. For long I didn't mind being a bother to Mom and Dad because I felt they didn't deserve better. But Alfred's mom had never done anything to me and still I was here ruining her evening. That's what I felt I was doing anyway.

"You can stay here for as long as you need," she said after a while and I faintly smiled.

"Thanks, but I don't want to be a bother. Maybe I'll go home tomorrow," I lied but she saw right through me.

"Of course you won't," she said. "And you shouldn't. Let things calm down. Parents can get out of control from time to time."

"I know," I said and bit on the edge of the glass just to do something with myself, but after a few seconds I felt silly. I put it down and turned to her as I added: "So can kids, I guess."

She laughed at me, but then she wrapped her arms around me and dragged me into a hug. It was unexpected and I hardly got to react, my arms hanging dead by my sides. "It'll get better, Arthur," she said. "You'll be going home soon."

I could feel she meant it, but I couldn't help asking: "And what if it doesn't get better?"

"It will," she said and I think she really wanted to believe in it. She wanted to believe this wasn't forever so I just smiled and nodded as she pulled back. I couldn't say that I couldn't see a way out. I had decided to leave my home and in a sense I had therefore decided to grow up. I couldn't expect others to help me out. I had to stay strong.

As Alfred came back downstairs, I stood up with a smile and no tears in my eyes.

"Ready for dinner?" his dad asked as he entered the room with a big plate of chicken and potatoes.

Alfred looked at me. "Want some food?" he asked and I nodded.

"I'm starving."

* * *

"What did you and Mom talk about?"

I spun around on Alfred's chair as I glanced towards him. He was searching through his closet trying to find something I could sleep in as he asked the question.

I slammed both heels to the ground and grimaced - my head was spinning and I felt sick. I tried to roll a little the other way on the chair to make up for the movement in my head. "Nothing. She just said I can stay for as long as I need."

"Good. Stay forever," Alfred said and threw a shirt at me. I held up the blue shirt with a big Superman-logo on front as I raised my brows at him, but he just shrugged. "It's old," he explained and sat down on his bed. His toes were bumping to the mattress on the floor. His mom had been up with it and a pillow and duvet were on it. She said Alfred could sleep there to give me some space.

I pulled off my shirt and put on the one he'd given me. "I don't want to. I have to figure out what to do."

"What's wrong with staying here?" Alfred asked puzzled.

I pulled off my jeans and hesitated. "Well," I mumbled and folded them. "To be honest I'm kind of tired of relying on everyone else. It just messes up things."

"Come on," he grimaced. "It's not about relying on us. We're just helping you out."

"And I'm really glad you are, seriously," I said and dropped down on the mattress as I looked up at him. "But I think I really need to figure out what I want to do in the future. Like seriously think about it."

"But you're smart. University of course," Alfred said as if it was obvious.

"Yeah, but I can't live at home. That's for sure now. And can I afford to live somewhere else? Like, all these things I just never thought about. I have to seriously consider them now. I should've before. I feel dumb I didn't."

"I didn't either, so don't blame yourself."

"But you don't have the same problem," I sighed tired. I tried smiling at him. I felt a bit bad saying what I was saying, but I had no one else to talk to. "I mean, worst case you can stay here and be good, you're okay with your parents."

"So are you," he said confused.

"But they're not _my_ parents," I said and Alfred fell quiet. I rubbed my cheeks as I looked away. "They're really cool, but I don't want to rely on them to get by. I need to find a way."

"Okay," Alfred said and I scratched my arm awkwardly. I didn't know what to reply and he didn't know either. Then he cleared his throat. "Okay. But for now you should sleep. Move out of my bed." He kicked me onto the floor and I stared at him surprise before he started grinning.

"You asshole," I said and smashed his pillow to his face. "Sleep in your bed."

"You're sleeping there."

"I'm not poisonous."

"No, you _need space_ ," Alfred repeated his mom and we stared at each other. Then we laughed. I crawled up into his bed and he soon followed, sneaking beneath the duvet to wrap his arms around me. He was big and warm, and I felt good pressing my nose to his neck. He smelled of sweat. I didn't mind.

"You know," Alfred said and tugged at my hair. "I don't mind if you rely on me."

"Well, that's very romantic," I said and pushed his hand away, "but you can't even rely on yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he laughed.

I grinned: "Can you imagine taking care of me?"

"Easily! Just make your own dinner, do your laundry, clean, buy groceries, pay the bills-"

"Aw man, you suck." I pinched his cheeks and he pinched mine back. We automatically started a competition to see who would suffer the most and beg the other to stop. As I jammed my broken nail into a soft pimple on his chin, he whined and pulled away. "I think you need me to rely on."

"I know I do," he said, but he wasn't laughing. I felt my cheeks going flustered at the sincere way he looked at me, so I turned to lay on my back as I stared at the ceiling.

"Do you think we'll once live together?" I asked in a mumble.

"Yeah," he said and pressed a kiss to my head. "Everyone makes it somehow, right?"

"Don't you ever worry?" I smiled and he shook his head.

"Nah, I know you can do it. And if you can do it, I can do it."

We looked at each other. Then he kissed me. Soon again we had our arms wrapped around each other and I could hear him snoring by my chest. I patted his hair slowly as I stared out into his dark room. I knew Alfred trusted me, but I worried he trusted me too much. I wasn't sure I could handle anything, especially not myself.

* * *

The next morning was slow. I woke up sweaty and warm next to Alfred's body which was like a radiator turned up to its fullest. As I pushed him, he mumbled something about being the first in the shower and I took it as a hint. I crawled across his body, glanced at the clock (almost lunchtime, I noticed) and then grabbed my clothes from the day before as I headed to shower. I used whatever shampoo I thought was Alfred's and glared for long at the toothpaste. My mouth felt foul but I had no brush with me. I hadn't brought anything at all. In my hurry to leave home I hadn't thought about how I would manage without the most simple things from my wardrobe. Pulling my dirty stuff over my damp skin was gross, but I guessed I had to get used to the feeling.

Instead of brushing teeth I swallowed a litre of water and nicked a few sprays from a dusty deodorant someone had left next to the bin. As I left the bathroom, I found Alfred waiting for me by the stairs with his hair sticking everywhere and some worn jogging pants covering his shivering legs.

"It's _so_ cold," he complained.

"Want to shower?" I suggested.

"I wanna eat."

We slipped downstairs to the kitchen. His parents were in the living room sipping coffee and watching the news. His mum looked up as we passed by. "Hey Al, morning Arthur. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, thanks for the bed," I smiled at her.

"There's coffee in the kitchen."

Alfred went straight to get a cup while I poured myself a glass of milk. He started making us toasts while I lazily watched the adds which were spread all over the kitchen counter. My head felt heavy, but I wasn't tired. It just seemed like yesterday was so long ago that it was hard for me to catch up with the events that had taken place. I'd left home, but it didn't feel like it in the lazy morning light with the smell of melting cheese reaching my nostrils. I couldn't ponder about school either or how I was going to get homework ready for Monday. I thought to myself: 'Maybe it really is okay. Maybe nothing is wrong. Maybe it was all just one long, bad nightmare.'

But of course it wasn't.

Seconds later we heard a knocking on the front door. I saw Alfred's mom peeking out the window before waving at his dad to get up to open. I glanced at Alfred who didn't seem to think any of it, but as soon as I heard the door open, I knew something was wrong. There was a quiet muttering from the hallway and the next time I looked towards the doorway, Mom was standing there.

I almost dropped my glass of milk in surprise. "Mom," I stuttered and only then did Alfred turn to look at her.

"Hey boys," she said lightly.

"Hey…" Alfred mumbled.

"How did you get here?" I continued and got up to stare out of the window, but the car wasn't out there.

"Dad's not with me," Mom assured. "I was on the bus."

"Alfred." Alfred's mom walked up behind Mom and waved at him. "Come."

"Are you sure?" Alfred asked before looking at me as if asking the same question.

I nodded and sat back down. "It's okay."

"There's fresh coffee," his mom said smiling at mine who kindly nodded. Then she left with Alfred into the living room and closed the door behind them. Mom walked in and closed the kitchen door too before she looked around. Then she sighed:

"The house is as nice as I remember it."

"Why are you here?" I asked.

Mom sat down across of me. She was still looking around without replying. She was in her nicest jacket, a brown one with a golden zipper in front, and her hair was put up as if she was heading out for a fine dinner. But her pale face, the lips bitten until they'd bled and her shivering eyes revealed that she wasn't all she looked to be. Mom had dressed up not to stand out among the Jones'. She still looked like a mouse thrown into a cage filled with cats.

"Dad told me what happened," she then said as she slowly unzipped her jacket.

I grunted. "I bet he did," I said with in an annoyed voice. "I bet he told you I was breaking his rules and whatnot."

"He did tell me that," she said and leaned back as she pulled her jacket off. She was careful with pulling her arms out of the sleeves as she watched me all along. "But what do you say happened?"

"I say he was a maniac who trashed my room," I sneered, but I regretted it as I saw Mom's hurt eyes. I looked down at the tabletop as I played around with my glass of milk. "Uh, I came home and found he'd thrown stuff into the bin. My stuff."

"When did you come home?" she asked.

"…Late. I was out with a friend watching a movie." I didn't mention Alfred's name. I didn't have to. As I looked up, Mom had started fiddling with the pot of fresh coffee. I'd never seen her enjoy anything but tea, but now she poured herself a cup like a woman who really needed whatever strength the caffeine could give her.

"You know what your dad's like. Why did you do it?"

"I don't know. I felt like it."

"He was furious."

"I didn't think he would ask me to leave."

"Did he? Or did you just leave? Because he told me you insisted on living life your way and just turned your back on him."

The way she worded the question made me laugh. I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms stubbornly. "Do you think I turned my back on him, or that he turned his on me?"

Mom didn't reply right away. She sipped the coffee, grimaced and then had another sip. "How do people drink this stuff," she mumbled lightly.

"Don't avoid the question," I stated harshly.

Mom put the cup down. "I think… I think he's under a lot of pressure these days."

"Oh, right, yeah, that makes it all good." I rolled my eyes and watched as Mom's lips stretched.

"Don't be like that with me," she said, "I'm trying to solve things."

"Well, you're not good at it."

"Then tell me what to say!" Mom's shout was a surprise for both of us. We stared at each other, her with her hand raised to her mouth as if she could scoop in the shout again and swallow it. She shook her head and covered her face. "I don't know what to say to either of you, Arthur. I want to help you. And I want to help Dad. We've had a lot of problems."

I watched Mom closely as she started speaking. It was weird hearing her speak of herself like that and though my heart was racing in anger, I still asked her in a calm voice: "What do you mean, problems?" I didn't expect her to answer, but she did.

Mom's hands dropped to her lap as she looked at me. "I guess you would've figured it out yourself, but you're never at home. How would you-…" She ran her fingers through her hair, picking out the pins she'd used to keep it up with. As it felt around her shoulders like long, tired locks, she looked old. "Your dad drinks and drinking makes him angry, and not drinking makes him angry. It's been going on for months now. We had troubles before then but I thought moving would help. You know, a fresh beginning to everything. But then all this with you happened and… I'm not blaming you, Arthur," she said and leaned in over her table. She reached for my hands, but I didn't grab hers. She looked me in the eyes. "But this marriage isn't working. It really isn't working with everything that's going on. He wants me to solve him, you want me to solve you-… I don't know what to do anymore."

I stared at her. Then I huffed: "I don't want you to solve me, Mom." I looked at her hands, but I still couldn't make myself grab them. I sat up straight and pushed my glass aside. "I just want your support."

"How do you want my support?" she asked and I could feel myself hurt at her words.

There was my mom sitting in front of me asking me what I needed from her and I couldn't believe she hadn't realised it herself yet. "I need… I need to know you're there for me," I said slowly as I found every word hard to speak.

Mom's eyes were glossy. "Oh Arthur, but you know I love you."

"No, I don't know," I said and wiped my eyes off in my sleeve. I denied looking at her. "I used to, but I don't know anymore. It's… fine if you like Dad, really, and it's fine if you don't. That's your thing to figure out. I just… I just really need to know you're here for me. Even if Dad decides he won't be."

Mom's hands curled into two shaky fists on the table. Then she got up, walked around it and hugged me. She was standing and I was sitting, and it was an awkward feeling pressing her bony frame to my shoulders, but we both needed it in the moment. Even if I still despised a lot of her decisions, I really loved my mom.

"I'll always be here for you," she said. "I really want you home."

"I'm still gay," I said as we parted, "and Dad still doesn't like it. I can't just go home."

I could tell she didn't like me saying it out loud, but it was what we both needed - a reality check. She slowly sat back down and played with her coffee. "I know, Arthur," she said. "I really… I really don't know what to do. He's angry and he won't talk about it. He just sits at home right now, drinking his beer and watching his television."

"I don't know what you should do," I said and scratched the wet skin beneath my eyes. "But I know I need to think about what I should do."

"Of course." She nodded. Then she was quiet. We could hear Alfred's parents chatting in the other room but the sound was so low I couldn't make out what they were saying. Mom sipped her coffee. "Are you happy here?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. They're nice."

"Why do you hesitate?"

I grimaced. I hated how she could tell what I was thinking. "I just don't want to bother them," I said and Mom smiled.

"You've never wanted to bother anyone," she said and I looked at her. She then laughed a little. "When you were little and we gave you that radio for your room, you would constantly call downstairs to ask if the sound was too loud. You didn't want to annoy us," she remembered and I snorted amused.

"Really?"

"You've come a long way." Mom leaned back and looked at me with pride in her eyes. I could feel it tickling my skin; Mom looked at me as if she really thought I was someone special. "When you started dressing like you didn't care, I thought: that's my son. That's Arthur, finally letting himself be. I so wanted you to tell me everything that was happening. I thought, if he tells me what's going on with those boys, what he's up to, maybe I can understand. But I lost my chance."

She looked away and I shook my head. "No Mom," I said and smiled as I grabbed her hands across the table. "You just took it."

Mom's eyes were glossy as she squeezed my hands and looked me in the eyes. "You have a savings account," she said and I blinked a bit.

"Uh?"

"We put money aside ever since you turned 5. It was Dad's idea. A little went in every month. There's a fair amount now."

"Dad will never let me have that now," I said.

"I'll talk to him," Mom said and let go of my hands. "Don't worry too much about your future, okay? I know you can make it. It'll all be okay."

And it was as if I believed her. So many had told me that I was going to be fine in the past days, but I hadn't believed any of them like I believed Mom in that moment. She'd been the most unlikely to support me, but now I felt that if even she could see a future for me, maybe I wasn't lost. I felt strong. I felt happy.

* * *

As Mom left I watched it from the kitchen together with Alfred. He'd quietly sneaked in behind me as they left the living room and his arms were wrapped around my body as we saw his parents and her chatting in the garden. We could only see their lips moving but I could guess what it was about as Mom pulled out her purse and his parents shook their head.

"What's that about?" Alfred asked confused.

"That's just Mom," I said. Like she'd felt the need to pay them when I went on vacation with them, she now felt she needed to show her gratitude for them taking care of me. But like always Alfred's parents couldn't take money for being kind. I could tell it almost made Mom cry. She had little money to do with and realising that others had enough to take care of her own son for a while was always a chock. She went on the bus without a single coin missing from her purse.

Later she came back with my school bag. On top of the books she'd stuffed it with clothes, my toothbrush and some books she thought I would miss. I didn't see her as she just placed it by the front door but Alfred's dad carried it to Alfred's room as we sat watching a movie.

"There'll be dinner in an hour," he said and smiled at us before he left.

I glanced towards the bag and then turned to Alfred in bed. "It seems like I'll be here for a bit," I said.

Alfred put his arm around my shoulders and kissed my cheek. "It's good to have you close."

"What're your mates going to think, tho'?"

"That my best friend is crashing over for a while?" Alfred suggested.

I grabbed a handful of his hair and twisted his face for him to look me in the eyes. "No _boy_ friend?" I asked and Alfred wriggled in pain.

"Have you seen the mess that makes?" he asked and I laughed before kissing him.

"I know, it's fine," I said and let go of his hair.

Alfred put down the remote and looked at me as he leaned back against the wall. "So, you and your mom are fine now?" he asked. He'd avoided the subject ever since she left, but I could tell he was really curious.

I nodded and leaned back as well. "Yeah, she's okay."

"Do you think she likes me?" he asked and I glanced at him surprised.

"Does it matter?"

"Do you think?" he repeated and I rubbed my cheek.

"I don't know? I guess. She liked you when we were kids. I guess it's just weird for her that we… you know."

"We don't fuck," Alfred said and I punched his side.

"Not that! I don't think she even considers that!" I'd blushed and Alfred had too. "I mean, just that we kiss. Or hold hands. Affection. I think it's odd. She talked about my childhood today. I think that's what she has to get rid off - the thought of me as a kid."

"Yeah." Alfred stared out into the room. Then he laughed: "If only she knew the things we did as kids in the tree house!"

I attacked him to the bed as he laughed, my fists hitting him in weak punches as I told him to shut up and be proper. We rolled around and fought. He smiled. I grinned. Downstairs his mom shouted for us to quiet down.

"We _are_ quiet!" Alfred shouted back and I snickered to his shoulder. I loved Alfred and I knew he loved me, and as his hands slipped into my pants, I didn't care what anyone thought of us. Maybe for now I was just a friend crashing at his place. But I imagined we were going to be crashing together for life, wherever in the world we ended up. And perhaps that was all I needed to know about our future.


End file.
